for you are mine at last
by brennansboys
Summary: A series of Booth and Brennan's one-shots. Mostly fluffy. Title comes from Etta James' 'At Last'.
1. Separation Anxiety

**[DISCLAIMER] Bones doesn't belong to me.**

Seeley Booth has never been a fan of typing up arrest reports.

Sure, he loves the arresting part. The physical, adrenaline-inducing fieldwork. He even enjoys interrogating the suspects, getting into their head, solving the crime. That aspect of his job is great.

What he doesn't enjoy so much?

The boring office work that accompanies a big case.

They'd just caught a spree killer who'd attacked five women within a matter of days, each time his cool-off period decreasing. Sweets had profiled that the mix of anger and adrenaline would cause him to escalate and, hopefully, make a mistake. Thankfully, for his latest kill, he'd been sloppy and had left fingerprints on the weapon (he used knives, different ones, each left at the scene of the crime), obviously so angry he forgot to put on his gloves and Bingo. The squints at the lab found a match almost immediately and they brought him in.

He wishes the difficulty of the paperwork had a direct correlation to the difficulty of the case, because this particular report is being a bitch right now. Staring at the screen, the word count is still at 52, like it has been for the past hour. Groaning, he drops his head into his hands.

"Hey, Booth?"

The FBI agent glances up at the sound of his name and sees Sweets standing at the doorway, an apprehensive expression on his face. "What is it, Sweets?"

The profiler winces at the sharp tone. "Um. Doctor Brennan just called. Wants to know when you'll be home."

"Tell her I've got no idea," he snaps. "This damn report is never getting finished!"

"Ok." Sweets enters the office, despite the fact he realises that's probably the last thing Booth wants, but whatever. You can't always get what you want. He takes the seat opposite the frustrated agent and asks, "what's really the matter here, Booth?"

"What's really the matter?" He repeats incredulously. "I'm stuck here working on this damn report while my partner and new born baby are at home!"

"Ah. And you're irritated because you're not with them."

"Doesn't take a shrink to work that one out, Sweets," he replies, running his hands through his now-dishevelled hair.

Sweets holds up his hands in surrender. "Hey, I'm not the one keeping you here. Don't take it out on me."

"I know. I know." He lets out a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. How are Doctor Brennan and Christine doing?"

Booth's exhausted expression brightens as he turns around a framed picture of them that sits on his desk. "They're doin' great. Look at 'em. They're gorgeous, right?"

Sweets observes Booth's content smile and the corners of his mouth lift in a similar way. "Very gorgeous."

"I need to get home," Booth muses as he stares at the picture, one he'd taken during Christine's first night home. Brennan is expertly cradling their daughter, her eyes sparkling with delight as she watches the hours-old baby breath in and out. He'd captured his partner's laugh perfectly, her mouth open in a wide smile, her skin practically glowing, even in photograph form. All he can think is how he needs to be with them right now, how he needs to hug them and kiss them in order to forget about his crappy day.

"How can I help?"

"It's just this damn arrest report," Booth complains. "The case is open and shut, but I can't seem to type it up." His gaze flicks back to the framed picture of his family. "I'm too distracted."

"Maybe you should just go home? Spend time with your beautiful baby girl, get a good nights sleep, come back and finish it tomorrow."

"The director won't like-."

"I'll keep him off your back."

Booth smiles. "You'd do that for me?"

Sweets shrugs, silently thinking that he'd do anything for the agent who's become like family. "Of course."

"Thanks, Sweets!" Suddenly more energised at the prospect of seeing his girls in less than half an hour, he saves the file, logs off the computer and grabs his jacket off the back of his chair. He slaps Sweets on the back as he practically races out of his office, desperate to see his family.

The profiler just watches, a soft smile on his face, glad everything has worked out for Booth and Brennan.

* * *

"Hey, Bones!" He calls once he has the door open, his bad day at the office already out of his mind.

"Lounge!" She calls back over her shoulder.

He's by her side in seconds, his lips meeting hers. "I've missed you today," he murmurs against her lips, pressing another kiss to them.

"I've missed you, too," she replies honestly. "Have a good day at work?"

"No. But let's forget about that." His eyes scan the living room and he doesn't see his daughter. "Where's Christine?"

"Upstairs having a nap." Noticing him heading for the stairs, she adds, "don't wake her, Booth!"

"I won't, I won't. I've just missed her is all."

She shoots him a stern glare. He doesn't believe he won't wake her up. He always does whenever he gets really excited to see her. "Booth."

"I won't wake her," he promises as he climbs the stairs and heads towards Christine's nursery, right next to their room. He pads across to her crib, seeing her sleeping like an angel, snuggling with the bunny he'd bought for her. Unable to help himself, he reaches inside the crib and brushes his finger across her clenched fist.

"Booth," Brennan admonishes quietly, entering the room. "What did I tell you?"

"She's still sleeping," he whispers, beckoning her over. "Look. See."

Brennan's face softens.

"She's so precious."

"I know," she murmurs proudly, unable to resist gently stroking her daughter's hair.

"We're good at making babies, Bones."

"While I agree, I hope you're not hinting for another one, because I just-."

"No, no. Not yet anyway. I just. She's so perfect."

"She really is," Brennan responds serenely.

"And you're an amazing mom," he compliments. "How'd you ever think you'd be bad at this?"

Her mouth falls open slightly, but before she can respond, Christine's eyes open and she's in Booth's arms in seconds. Arching an eyebrow at her partner, she says, "I thought we were going to let her self-soothe?"

He grins cheekily, pressing a kiss to one of Christine's chubby cheeks. "Couldn't resist. I've been waiting for this moment all day."

"Maybe you should take some time off work? It's not fair that you work hard all day while Christine and I are home without you."

"Sounds like you really miss me, Bones," he smirks.

"We do miss you," she admits, taking ahold of one of Christine's tiny hands. "Don't we, sweetheart?"

He feels a pang in his heart. He wants nothing more than to snuggle with his family all day, but he can't. He has other responsibilities.

Brennan notices his downcast expression and touches his forearm. "It's ok if you can't. I'm sure we can survive a few hours apart."

He sighs. "I need to earn money."

"I have money," she offers.

"That's sweet, but I mean my own money. So I can spoil my favourite girls."

Brennan's eyes sparkle as she watches him watch their daughter. "Favourite girls?"

"Well, yeah," he deadpans. "Who else would it be?"

"That's a good point, Booth." She pauses, biting her lip. "We're still going to miss you while you're at work though."

"Me, too, Bones. Me, too."

 **Review? :)**


	2. Meeting Baby Hank

He watches with awe in his eyes as the midwife carefully places their newborn son in his wife's arms, moisture building behind his eyes. He can barely form words, so struck with emotion that he now has _three_ children, two of which are with Brennan. He never thought he could be lucky enough to even date her - not after that night during their first case when she'd turned him down - let alone marry her and have two perfect children with her.

"He's very healthy," their midwife, Anne, tells them with a grin. "And beautiful. You did a great job, Temperance!"

He watches as his wife manages to tear her eyes away from their newborn for a fraction of a second to shoot an appreciative glance Anne's way, her eyes refocusing on their son straight away. "I couldn't have done it without your help!"

"Much better than a barn, eh?"

Booth misses the question directed at him, lost in his son's face. Happiness consumes him at the adorable little scrunched up face that looks so much like his big sister's. Speaking of, he can't wait for Christine to meet him. She's been so excited, asking every day for months when she can finally meet her little brother. He knows she'll be fantastic with him. Parker, too. Suddenly, he feels a pinch to his forearm, glancing between Brennan and Anne as he is brought harshly out of his reverie about all of his children together.

"Booth, Anne asked you a question," Brennan admonishes as she cradles the bundle in her arms.

"Huh? What?"

The midwife chuckles. "It's ok. I'm used to new parents zoning out. I asked if this time was better than the barn?"

"They were both perfect," he says seriously, surprising both women.

" _Really_?" Brennan's eyes are imploring. "But what about the screaming and the animals and-."

"The grossness?"

She shakes her head; that would not be her choice of word. "The more unpleasant aspects of giving birth."

"Nicely put, Bones," he chuckles, amusement glittering in his eyes. Seriousness returns and he shrugs. "Sure, I'd have preferred it if a midwife or doctor had pulled the baby out instead of me, but I don't know. It gave me Christine, so I can't hate it. It was pretty magical and it makes for a great story, huh?"

"I suppose you're right," she admits, "although it pains me to say it."

A toothy grin forms on his face as he watches Brennan with their son. "We need to choose a name."

"Have you had any thoughts yet, you two?"

"Well," Brennan's eyes meet Booth's. "I haven't actually discussed this with my husband yet, but I think I've chosen the perfect name."

"You do?" Anne asks, shocked. After getting to know this couple, she'd assumed the name-choosing process would be more difficult than the birth with the amount of bickering they do.

"Henry Booth."

Booth's heart jumps in his chest. "You'd... You'd do that?"

"Of course, Booth. I love you!" Neither of them are paying any attention to the entranced midwife, their eyes only for each other. "I loved Hank too and I think this would be an excellent way to honour his life. Don't you?"

In lieu of a response, Booth just kisses her.

"Is that a yes?" She checks as their foreheads touch together intimately.

" _Yes_ ," he whispers as he kisses her again. "Henry Booth."

"It's a great name," Anne chimes in, smiling sweetly at the couple, not missing the clearly emotional reasoning behind the name. "I'll give you some time alone while I fill in the birth certificate."

Booth nods as Anne slips out of the room and then touches Henry's back. "Can we call him Hank for short? I think Pops would like that."

"Of course, Booth," comes Brennan's response, so full of love and understanding. "I wish Hank were here to meet Hank Jr."

Booth swallows. "Me too."

His wife's hand intertwines with his on their son's back and Booth loses track of time, content to simply watch their newborn. He has no idea how much later, but he's pulled away from Hank's tiny yawn when Anne pokes her head into the room.

"You have a very excited little visitor out here, if you're ready."

Booth and Brennan share an equally excitable look, then nod to Anne, who disappears to inform their visitor.

Christine comes shooting into the bedroom moments later.

"Mommy! Daddy!"

Booth stands and catches his daughter in his arms, lifting her above his head. "Hey, monkey!"

"Can I see the baby now?" She asks eagerly as Booth lowers her back to the ground.

"Of course you can, sweetheart."

Hearing Brennan's voice, Christine peaks around Booth to find the source. She sees Brennan lying on the bed with a bundle of blankets in her arms. Her pupils dilate and her mouth falls open slightly as she takes a few hesitant steps towards the bed. "Is... Is that my baby?"

"Technically he's mommy and daddy's baby," Booth corrects her with a soft chuckle.

Christine glares at him over his shoulder and he is struck by her likeness to her mother. " _My_ baby, daddy. I'm going to be their favourite person."

Brennan smiles sweetly as Christine reaches the bed, her eyes full of interest as she seeks out the baby amongst the blankets. She angles the bundle towards her five year old, gently pushing away the blankets so Christine has a better view. "You're going to be _his_ favourite person," Brennan tells her mini-me, unable to hide the grin that creeps onto her face. 

"I have a little brother?"

Booth and Brennan share happy smiles. "You have a little brother."

"That is _so_ cool!"

"Really?"

"We thought you wanted a little sister so you could dress her up in your princess dresses and put make up on her," Brennan says confusedly. While she had no gender preference, content with either or, Christine had made it well known she wanted a sister, especially with already having Parker in her life.

"I can still do that with him," Christine replies as if it's the most obvious thing in the entire world. "I wonder whether he prefers Snow White or Cinderella."

Booth has to stifle the loud laughter that threatens to escape at the thought of his son dressed in Cinderella's blue ballgown with make-up smeared all over his face. "I'm sure he'll let us know when he's a little older," Booth informs her, his voice shaky as he tries not to laugh.

Christine nods as if his answer is acceptable. Then, suddenly nervous, she asks quietly if she can hold him.

"Yes, of course, sweetheart. Booth."

"Right, ok, here." Booth lifts Christine through the air and sits behind her on the bed, so she's leaning against his chest.

Brennan then adjusts Hank and places him carefully in Christine's arms, both parents hovering in case she makes one small, wrong move. "There you go, sweetheart. You're doing great." She strokes Christine's hair as she watches them together, her heart bursting with pride and love.

"He's so cute," Christine murmurs, engrossed by the rise and fall of his chest. "Was I this cute when I was a baby?"

"You were _very_ cute. Everybody agreed."

"I still am, daddy."

He laughs loudly, his hold on her tightening. God, he loves this little girl. When he composes himself, he drops a kiss to her hair. "Yes, you are, monkey. Very cute. Not very modest though. Like mother, like daughter."

"I don't know what that means. HEY! He's opening his eyes!"

"He must have heard all his family talking and wanted to know what was going on," Brennan says, her gaze fixed on Hank as he opens his eyes for the very first time, revealing identical ones to his father. "Hey, Hank," she whispers, her finger lightly stroking his cheek. "Are you going to be a little heartbreaker like your daddy? You look just like him. That's a good thing, of course. Your daddy is very attractive."

"Bones."

"I should think you know you're attractive, Booth. You do see all the stares you get from women wherever you go, don't you? And we own mirrors, so it's not like you can't see your pleasing face and physique."

His cheeks have flushed red. " _Bones_."

She shrugs. "I'm just saying."

"Hank?" Christine whispers thoughtfully. "Is that his name? Hank?"

"Henry, but Hank is his nickname. Like Pops."

"I like that name."

"I'm glad we have your seal of approval, Miss Booth," Booth responds, smirking. "So, on a scale of 1 to 10, how much do you love your new baby brother?"

"8 million trillion billion!"

Booth grins. "Wow, that much, huh?"

The five year old nods enthusiastically. "Hank's the bestest!"

"No, Christine, bestest isn't a word. You mean to say Hank is the _best,_ remember? We've had this discussion before," Brennan teaches, never missing an opportunity to widen her daughter's knowledge.

"Well Hank's the _best_ then," Christine rectifies.

Anne pokes her head around the door at that moment, birth certificate in hand. "Hey there, Booth family. Sorry to interrupt - I need mommy and daddy's signatures."

"Ok, sure."

She nears the bed and hands the paper for Brennan to scribble her signature on first, then Booth does the same.

"They're both adorable," Anne compliments as Christine sings twinkle twinkle to Hank, unaware of the three adults admiring her.

"We agree." Booth and Brennan exchange meaningful looks. "Could you take a picture for us please, Anne?"

"Absolutely." She takes the phone that Booth passes to her and holds it up to the family. "Say cheese!"

"Cheeeeesseeee!"

Anne clicks the button, waits for the picture to load and then smiles as the snapshot of the family appears on the screen. "Very photogenic," she says, giving the phone back to Booth. "I'm off now. Hank seems perfectly healthy from what I can garner - if you need anything, don't hesitate to call me or your doctors."

"Will do. Thank you Anne for all your help. I'm sure Booth is very grateful he didn't have to do it himself this time."

"Yes, I imagine he is," she replies laughingly. "Congratulations on your beautiful baby boy."

Brennan smiles at her, lifting a hand as the midwife leaves the family to it. Her attention returning to her two children, she sees Christine press a wet kiss to Hank's cheek and wonders why she ever thought kids would be a bad idea. Aside from Booth, Christine and now Hank are the best thing that's ever happened to her. She loves them more than she ever thought possible to love another human being and she can't wait to watch them grow beside each other.

She catches her husband's eye and he winks like he knows exactly what she's thinking about. While in the past it would have infuriated her that he know her so well, so deeply, that he could know her every thought, now she kind of likes it.

She accepts the fact that she's changed quite a lot since that handsome man in a suit introduced himself as Seeley Booth at the end of one of her American University lectures all those years ago. As she watches Booth and Christine pull funny faces at Hank, Christine's musical giggle ringing through their beautiful house, she's not so sure she minds.

 **This one has taken me some time to get right; I kept deleting it and starting over and over. But in the end I'm quite pleased with the outcome. I wish we'd seen Christine/Hank meeting on the show but we've had so many incredible B &B moments I suppose I can't be too disappointed. **

**Leave a review if you liked this chapter! :)**


	3. Green Eyed Monster

Seeley Booth is one very attractive man, a fact Brennan immensely appreciates. As his wife, she is aware of how extremely fortunate she is to have found such a fine specimen to marry and reproduce with. As his wife, she is also hyper-aware of the effect he has on _other_ women.

They were partners and good friends for many years, so she's always known he's had girlfriends. Many of them, actually. Tessa, Cam, Hannah, just to name a few. And he'd go on dates too, presumably sleeping with these women, although he didn't divulge that particular information with his partner-come-woman-he-has-forever-been-madly-in-love-with. It never _really_ bothered Brennan as she knew they were just partners and she didn't have some weird claim over him that would prevent him from being with other women.

But now, now they're married and share their lives and have two children?

It _really_ bothers her when other women flirt with _her_ husband.

Obviously, she keeps this little detail to herself, because if Booth knew she was jealous about the female interest he receives, he would tease her to no end. Besides, she usually keeps the other women in check whenever they pass an intrigued gaze over her husband's fine physique, subtlety flashing her wedding band or shooting them a stern, discouraging "back off, he's mine" glare.

Sometimes though, Brennan isn't around to keep his admirers in line or they're just a little _too_ eager and don't seem to register Brennan's presence at all. Like, for example, one of the persons of interest in their latest case cannot keep her eyes of Brennan's husband and despite her best efforts, the blonde will not leave him alone.

Brennan watches, jaw clenched, from the observation room as Booth and Aubrey interrogate said woman on the opposite side of the glass. The younger agent is sat on one of the chairs, an open folder spread on the table in front of him with information her team from the Jeffersonian had recovered about the victim's injuries. Booth is leaning against the back wall, dressed in one of his white dress shirts with his gun holster accentuating his perfect - oh, _so perfect -_ broad shoulders _._ His fingers play with the bottom of his purple tie Brennan bought him as one of his birthday presents as he watches the suspect carefully, determining her responses to the accusations Aubrey is throwing her way.

"We have conclusive evidence here from the Jeffersonian Institute that your DNA was found beneath the vic's fingernails as she fought off your attack," Aubrey is saying to an unreceptive audience, an audience who only has eyes for the older agent at the back.

"Take a picture, it'd last longer," she says to Booth, rudely interrupting Aubrey.

One of Booth's eyebrows raises in surprise. "Uh, sorry?"

"You're staring, _sweetcheeks_ ," she drawls, Brennan's anger mounting at the moniker she gives _her_ husband.

Aiming to impress as always, Aubrey jumps in. "Agent Booth is a highly experienced agent. He's simply judging your reactions to the interrogation. If you feel uncomfortable-."

"Mmm. I bet he's experienced," she says flirtatiously, leering at him. "And no, honey, I'm not uncomfortable at all. In fact, I quite appreciate having hot guys stare at me."

Brennan's eyes bug and she has to strongly resist the urge to march into the interrogation room and give this woman a piece of her mind. She knows it would compromise the case though and settles for placing a firm glare on the blonde who keeps eying up her resisting husband.

With his palms facing the woman, Booth shoots a quick glance in Brennan's direction, and then informs the blonde that she is being wildly inappropriate. "Miss Clarke, you're a murder suspect here. I'd advise you to watch what you say."

"Miss Clarke?" She snorts, then bats her excessively long and voluminous false lashes at him. "You can call me Sara."

Brennan sees his Adam's apple bob in his throat and narrows her eyes suspiciously at him. "Right. Sara. We have proof you and Clio were in a fight before she died. Can you explain yourself?"

"Only if you can explain why you're so darn good lookin', mister."

While Brennan agrees that he is extremely good looking, especially now with his jaw tight with irritation, he's hers to appreciate, not this blonde murdering bimbo. She is his type though, Brennan thinks, as the two agents in front of her once again remind the suspect of the inappropriate situation. Before Brennan, he made it very clear he preferred blondes to brunettes. And the woman is rather attractive, even if she is about to be arrested for murder, there's no denying the pleasing symmetrically of her facial featured or her large, obnoxious breasts. She's exactly the kind of woman Booth would normally be interested in. Feeling her jealousy grow, she decides she needs a break, the flirting causing insecurities to burrow in her brain: _what if Booth likes her back? What if he leaves me? What if he runs away with her_?

Needing some fresh air, Brennan quickly escapes the confines of the interrogation room and hurries back to the lab, missing the annoyed glare on Booth's face at the woman's continued advances.

* * *

Hours later, she hears a knock on her office door. Glancing up from her folder where she'd been deep in cataloging the injuries to a nineteenth century skeleton she'd been sent this week, she sees her husband, now dressed in his black jacket and looking even more handsome. A smile creeps onto his face as she catches his eye, then falls just as easily when he sees the expression on her face. Taking the seat opposite her, he cuts straight to the chase. "What's up, Bones?"

"Nothing's wrong," she answers, not looking up from her notes.

He frowns. "Then why won't you look at me? If I've done something-."

Brennan rolls her eyes incredulously and huffs in annoyance. "As if you don't know."

"I don't."

Putting down her pen, she sighs, meeting his concerned gaze. "The interrogation earlier. Sara Clarke. The woman who was coming onto you."

"Oh that. Well, we've arrested her for murder, Bones. She's going to be locked up for a very long time. All thanks to my genius wife here."

"Don't try to charm me, Booth," she replies, frustrated. "That woman was flirting with you and normally I can deal with it but _God_ , she was relentless!"

His lips quirk slightly. "You're jealous."

"I am not jealous," she defends.

"You're totally jealous." His tone is teasing, his grin now wide and full of delight.

She throws her pen at him. "I'm not, Booth. Stop it."

He doesn't. "You're jealous because you want me all to yourself. That's why you had to leave so quick, wasn't it?" He puffs up his chest. "I have to say, I'm flattered. Really."

"Booth."

"You really don't like it when another woman flirts with your husband, huh?"

"No, I do not," she finally snaps. "Although I'm loathe to admit it because now you will never shut up about this, will you?"

"Absolutely not," he chuckles. Sobering, he says, "I get jealous when guys check you out too."

"Males do not-."

"Bones, you're gorgeous and men _definitely_ notice it. Do you know how many times a day I have to resist the temptation to punch dudes in the face for staring at you?"

She shakes her head. She's had two children, her figure is definitely not what it once was and she's sure Booth is just saying this to make her feel better, anyway.

"About ten times a day. Seriously. It drives me _crazy_."

"Booth, I don't pay any attention to them," she reassures him, placing a hand on his over the tabletop. "I only have eyes for you."

"Well then you should know, I only have eyes for you too, Bones. You're seriously stunning and I wouldn't change you for anything, alright?"

"Alright," she whispers, squeezing his hand and feeling his wedding ring press against her skin. "I desperately wanted to march into that interrogation room earlier and tell that... that bitch that you're _my_ husband. _Mine_."

He swallows. "And you're mine, Bones. That's never gonna change."

Smiling tenderly at him, she decides to close the folder and go home early. Spending time with her husband is far more important than some hundreds years old skeleton. "Fancy a beer?"

"God, yes," he says enthusiastically, making her laugh as she packs up her things and they head out of the lab in the direction of the Founding Fathers.

(As they sit at the bar half an hour later, Brennan totally catches two college students making eyes at her husband and feels her jealous feelings bubble quickly once again. Before she can react, however, she feels her husband's lips on hers.

"Ignore them, Bones," he whispers, his mouth a breath away. "I couldn't care less about them when I have you."

And he kisses her again.

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see the two girls roll their eyes at the blatant show of affection and focus their attention on another guy. Brennan smirks. That's right. He's _mine_.)

 **Jealous!Booth and Brennan are the BEST.**

 **Review? :)**


	4. African Fertility Statue

**I was re-watching "The Cheat in the Retreat" and Booth's mention of Brennan's African fertility statue in their bedroom got me thinking that they were trying to have another baby. I know I said these would be mostly fluffy, but inspiration struck. So... Yeah. Kind of angsty, but lots of B &B and Brengela goodness. Hope you enjoy! :)**

The computer beeps, signalling that it's found a match to Angela's facial reconstruction. Mindy Barker. Only twenty seven years old. Sighing, Angela prints her personal details. This job never gets easier. Sliding the information into a manila folder, she hurries into her best friend's office to update her with the case. When it's empty, she makes to leave, when she hears a sound from the bathroom. Furrowing her brow, she moves closer to the room, the sound growing louder. She knocks on the door, worry rattling through her as it sounds like somebody crying. Like _Brennan_ crying. "Sweetie, are you in there?"

"Yes, Ang," she hears Brennan call after a few moments of sniffling.

Ok, Angela is definitely concerned now. She does not sound alright. "What're you doing? Come out here!"

"I can't!"

"Why? Are you on the toilet?"

"No, but-."

"Are you naked? Because we've already seen each other in the buff before, that's no big deal."

Angela makes out a sigh from the other side of the door, then the click of the door unlocking. It opens seconds later, the anthropologist's face coming into view, unusually red and blotchy. "Hi," she whispers.

"Hey, sweetie," she murmurs in response, stepping into the bathroom. Glancing around the room, she sees no immediate evidence of anything that explains Brennan's upset demeanour. "What's wrong? You can talk to me."

Swallowing the hurt she feels inside, Brennan pulls out the narrow white stick she'd hidden in one of the cabinets before Angela entered.

The scientist's eyes widen comically. "You're _pregnant_?"

Tears well in her eyes as she shakes her head softly, unable to hide her heartbreak.

A disappointed expression washes over the artist's features. She knows Booth and Brennan have been trying to have another baby for some months now and yet, their attempts have so far been fruitless. "Brennan, I'm so sorry-."

"Booth just-." Her voice cracks, her emotion peaking as she thinks of her husband, so desperate to expand their precious family. "He wants another baby so badly."

Trying not to cry herself, Angela places a comforting hand on Brennan's forearm. "Well, you can still have another one. Just 'cos you're not pregnant _this_ time, doesn't mean you won't be in the future. And it simply means you get more hot sex with Studly and that's not a bad thing, is it? I mean, I'm totally jealous."

"Angela." She shoots her best friend a disapproving glare, her tears ebbing though as just her presence is able to lighten her mood.

"Sorry, I can't help it. Your husband is h-o-t, HOT."

Despite herself, Brennan lets out a small laugh. Angela does have a point there. She's extremely fortunate to have such an attractive husband, who only seems to improve with age.

"Seriously though, sweetie," she says, sobering up. "Don't worry about it. Sometimes these things just take time."

"Right. Time." While normally she would spout some scientific mumbo jumbo about the statistics of getting pregnant, she keeps her lips pressed together, clearly deep in thought.

Angela squeezes her arm. "Hey, what're you thinking?"

"Nothing," Brennan responds quietly. Then, "I suppose we have Christine and Parker so it's not like we're child-less..."

"That's true. They're both adorable too."

"They are," she agrees, a smile tugging on her face. "Did I show you the picture they took when Parker was over here for the wedding?"

"No, show me." Angela's tone is eager, Brennan's expression brighter as she pulls up the image on her phone. Angela grins widely as she sees the sweet blurred selfie the two of them had tried to take, Parker's arms wrapped protectively around his younger sister. "Aww. That's so cute!"

"I know," Brennan gloats, her finger brushing Christine's cheeks in the forefront of the photograph. Angela catches her chewing on her lip, clearly considering saying something. Deciding not to push, she just watches, knowing Brennan will confide in her in her own time. A few minutes of silence pass before a whispered "Christine keeps asking for a baby" is heard.

Angela feels her heart sink. "Sweetie..."

"She's so excited." Brennan touches her finger to the heart-shaped locket necklace Christine had bought her for Mother's Day, a hint of a smile on her face. "She has this plastic doll that she takes _everywhere_. She brings her in a pram whenever we go shopping, clothes her, brushes her hair, reads to her-." Her voice breaks mid-sentence. "Christine says its practise for her new baby brother or sister that she, quote on quote, _really, really, really wants_."

"Christine's adorable," Angela says of the three year old, and its true, she's the sweetest. Nothing but a delight for the two proud parents. Angela only wishes biology would get it's shit together and give them another baby just like her already.

"She would be an amazing big sister."

"Hey, hey, hey. She will be an amazing big sister," Angela corrects, lifting Brennan's chin so their eyes meet. "No conditional tense, ok? It's going to happen."

The supremely rational scientist looks unconvinced, so Angela presses on.

"I mean, worse comes to the worst and you _can't_ conceive? Not that that's going to happen," she adds quickly, at Brennan's distraught reaction. "You can adopt, right? Or have a surrogate? There's more than just one way for you and Booth to have a baby, sweetie." She takes Brennan's hand in hers, squeezing it supportively. "Ok? You and Studly will be _fine_."

"Thank you, Angela." Sniffling a little, she reaches her arms out towards her best friend. "I'm going to hug you now."

"Ok." The artist smiles as she's gathered up in her friend's embrace, gently rubbing her hands across Brennan's back. "Everything's going to be ok," she murmurs, feeling Brennan's hold tighten.

"Hey." Angela and Brennan break apart as they hear the familiar voice come from the doorframe belonging to a certain FBI agent. "Hiya, Bones."

"Booth," she says, hurrying over to him and pressing her face into his chest, his arms instinctively wrapping around her.

"You ok?" He asks, his voice muffled against her hair as he presses comforting kisses there. "What's up?" He mouths to Angela, who's watching the exchange with moisture building behind her eyes.

"Not pregnant," Angela mouths back, hating the heartbroken expression that crosses his face as she reveals the disappointing news. She watches as he clutches Brennan tighter, seeing a few stray tears glide down his cheeks. Deciding to give the couple some privacy, she leaves the bathroom, squeezing Brennan's shoulder as she passes, a silent "I'm always here for you, sweetie" gesture.

Turning back for a second before she leaves for Cam's office, realising they hadn't discussed the case once, she sees the married couple kissing, both trying to comfort their heartbroken spouse. Even though she'd given Booth hell over the whole proposal rejection situation, she can see he's good for her. She's glad her best friend has him. She'd be even more glad though if the universe would give them another damn baby already.

 **Review? :)**


	5. The Booths Watch Hockey

**Just a cavity-inducing fic about a scene I want - no, need - in the upcoming hockey episode.**

"Christine, keep your hat on," Brennan says for what feels like the one hundredth time as her daughter insists on tugging off the woollen beanie, claiming it's itching.

"But I don't like it, mommy!"

She places the hat over Christine's head, ensuring it covers her ears. "Too bad."

"Moooommmyyyy," she whines, a sulky expression forming on her face, attracting the attention of various people around them.

Brennan feels her face redden in embarrassment. "Christine, sit down and be quiet, please. The game is about to start."

Having developed her father's stubbornness, she petulantly crosses her arms across her chest, refusing to sit. "No."

" _Christine_." Behind her daughter, Brennan can see the players skate onto the ice, her eyes seeking out her husband. "Christine, daddy's here now. Do you want me to get him?"

"No," she repeats, shaking her head from side to side in an exaggerated motion. Even at five, she's aware that if she did anything to prevent her daddy from playing his hockey game that he'd so looked forward to, it would mean _serious_ trouble.

"That's what I thought. Now sit down, Christine." Tired of waiting, Brennan tugs at the girl's winter coat, sitting her down in the seat next to her. She pulls down her hat and adjusts her scarf so it's covering the lower part of her face. Doing the same to the little boy in her lap, she catches her husband's eyes as he makes his way around the rink. She waves excitedly, Christine doing the same, forgetting that she's meant to be sulking, Booth winking back at his girls, a happy smile on his face. He loves when they're able to watch him play.

"Go daddy!" Christine cheers, bouncing in her seat. "Mommy, can I show him the banner I drawed now?"

"It's drew, sweetie," she corrects automatically, pressing a kiss to the top of her head for trying. "Don't you want to wait until he actually starts playing?"

"No, now!"

Her daughter's energy already overflowing, Brennan regrets the two cookies she allowed her to eat before they left the house. Damn those irresistibly adorable puppy eyes. She picks up the banner Christine had made that morning and unfurls it, holding onto the one end, while Christine takes the other.

Booth has circled back to them and is leaning against the barrier, a wide smile on his face as he reads the sign that proudly proclaims "my daddy's the best!"

"Do you like it, daddy?" Christine yells, eager to hear his opinion. Brennan feels slightly embarrassed as her daughter - yet again - attracts all the attention to them, although this time it's because of her ridiculous cuteness. "I made it just for you!"

"I love it, Christine!" He shouts back, wishing he could give her a giant hug, the referee's whistle tearing him away from his family. With one last wave goodbye, he skates away, his serious game face replacing the tender smile his wife and children had placed there.

The game begins and Brennan is entranced. She's always loved coming to watch Booth's hockey games, though her work schedule, plus two kids, make the activity a rarity. She's always immensely impressed by his talent on the ice. Focusing on the game as Booth's team mounts an attack, she's on the edge of her seat, Booth nearing the goal. One of his teammates passes the puck in his direction and he collects it, then fires it past the keeper into the back of the net. He throws up his arms in celebration, Christine and Brennan cheering delightedly. He shoots a grin in their direction, the ref blows the whistle and the game restarts.

Overall it's going well for Booth's team. They're winning 4-0 with only a few minutes to spare and Booth's had relatively few players tackle him, so all-in-all Brennan thinks it's been a successful game when, once again, Booth launches an attack and a large caucasoid male from the opposite team slams Booth against the barriers, the sound echoing around the rink.

Brennan is on her feet in a millisecond.

Christine watches on, terrified.

Hank continues smiling, unaware of the brutal hit his dad had just received.

Booth still hasn't moved, lying on the ice in a heap as the team surrounds him, a medic hurrying over to him.

A wave of fear rolls through Brennan as the doctor kneels beside her husband and says something, then examines his head, knowing he's checking for a concussion. Eventually -after what feels like _hours_ to the anxious Booth family on the sidelines - their favourite guy moves, albeit it slowly and carefully, but he moves. Brennan lets out a breath of relief as he skates off the ice, a medic either side of him holding him up. Handing Hank to Christine with a quick "watch your brother, sweetheart", she gets as close to her husband in the dugouts as she possibly can.

"Booth! Are you ok?"

He grins deliriously. " _Bones_! She's my wife!" He announces to nobody in particular, a goofy expression on his face.

Her mouth ticks up at the corners upon hearing the "w" word that she doesn't think will ever get old. Her eyes though, as she seeks out medical confirmation from the team doctors, convey her panic.

"He's a little out of it, but he'll be fine with some ice."

"Thank you, doctor," she says gratefully and, with one last longing look in her husband's direction, returns to her two children. She lifts Hank into her arms and sits back in her seat, cuddling the little boy in her arms and revelling in his innocent giggles.

"Is daddy ok?" Christine asks worriedly, her eyes straying to the dugout. She'd never seen Booth hurt like that before, and the sight is more than a little terrifying for the child.

"He'll be fine, sweetheart. Don't worry about it. He's been injured a lot worse than this."

Christine's eyes widen, moisture building behind them. "He has?" Her voice is quiet, afraid, and Brennan instantly realises she's said too much.

Gathering her daughter in her arms, she kisses her hair lovingly. "Daddy is healthy, he's ok, you have no need to worry."

"Did the bad guys hurted him?"

Just like her parents, she will not accept that for an answer, Brennan thinks ruefully. "Yes," she replies honestly, because she doesn't believe in lying to her children. "There are a lot of bad guys out there. When your daddy and I work to catch them, we sometimes get hurt, but it's nothing a few Christine cuddles can't fix."

The five year old giggles softly as her mom hugs her tighter, burrowing her head in her chest. "So daddy's ok?"

Christine's voice muffled against her clothing, combined with the loud shouts as the game continues sans Booth, is almost inaudible, but Brennan just about picks it up, and promises that daddy's ok.

* * *

That evening Christine traipses around after Booth, laying blankets over him, bringing him snacks and checking on his wellbeing approximately every two minutes.

"Christine, come and sit down, sweetheart. We're going to watch Finding Nemo!"

Glancing nervously at her father, she asks, "are you sure you don't need anything else?"

"Just one thing, Doctor Booth," he says and she straightens, ready to run back to the kitchen and get him anything he needs. "My Christine cuddles."

Her expression softens and she climbs up onto the sofa next to him, tucking herself under one arm. She snuggles as close to him as she possibly can. "Is this alright, daddy?"

As Brennan presses play on the movie, Hank curled up on her lap, his arm around her shoulders bringing her into side, he doesn't think he could possibly be happier. Not even if the Flyers won the cup. "I'm perfect, Christine. Absolutely perfect."

Satisfied with his response, she focuses on the screen, the opening of her favourite movie playing out. She thinks everything is pretty perfect, too.

 **Thank you for the response on the previous chapter! While I'm glad you enjoyed it enough to want a sequel, in my mind this story is just moments we missed on the show - so they obviously got pregnant with Hank and I don't think I could write a scene as perfect as the one on the show anyway. Hope that clears things up! :)**


	6. Here Comes The Bride

They stand as the music begins to play and Christine walks down the aisle first, wearing a pretty pink dress that poofs out at the waist like a ballerina (the main selling point for the budding six year old dancer). Her hair has been curled softly and a flower, the same colour as her dress, has been pinned in her hair. She picks a handful of petals from her basket and expertly drops them to the floor either side of her.

Ever since she'd discovered she would be the flower girl for Cam and Arastoo around seven months ago, she's been relentlessly practising her role. Booth often comes home from work and finds a scattering of flower petals from the garden down the corridor of their house. Each time, he scoops her up and tickles her until she's giggling so much she gives in and promises to not do it again. (She does, of course; justifying herself by saying, "I'm a flower girl, daddy! Auntie Angela says thats a _very_ important job!" As she talks she tilts her head in the same way as her mother and, honestly, he can't resist her adorable-y stern expression.)

"Cwistine pwetty!" Hank announces, a wide, happy smile on his face as he notices his big sister walking past them, waving excitedly at her family.

"Christine's very pretty," Booth agrees, pressing a kiss to the top of his one and a half year old's head. He blows a kiss at Christine too, who reaches the end of the aisle and waits for the bride and the remaining bridal party.

Cam has four bridesmaids; Michelle, Felicia, Angela and Brennan, all adorned in matching outfits. Booth's eyes only focus on the latter - his wonderful, perfect wife. Her strapless dress is baby pink - the same colour as Christine's - and floats to the floor. He's seen pictures of her in it before, but he's blown away by the real life thing. Her hair is curled softly, her make-up is light and natural (just the way he likes it) and the tender smile on her face as she walks the aisle, her eyes fixed on Booth, is one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen. Second only to the look on her face when Aldo had announced them as husband and wife.

"You look great," he mouths to her, adding a thumbs up for good measure.

She lets out a light laugh, her eyes sparkling.

It takes all of his effort not to take her by the hand and kiss her then and there. The amused expression on her face as she joins Christine tells him she knows exactly what he's thinking. He smirks at her and she shakes her head before her gaze drifts past him, to the back of the hotel room. He turns and sees Cam waiting at the end of the aisle, her arm hooked through her dad's.

She looks so beautiful.

Her dress is mermaid style, a fitted, strapless bodice with exquisite lace detailing, with an extravagant flare at the base of the skirt.

He glances back at Arastoo, at the smile growing on his face as he takes in his wife-to-be. Booth can't help but think back to when he was in Arastoo's position, watching Brennan walk towards him and being stunned by her beauty. Sneaking a look at his wife, he finds her watching him intently and he knows she's reminiscing about exactly the same thing.

* * *

The wedding ceremony is beautiful.

They say their own vows and when Arastoo recites some of his poetry in Farsi, there isn't a dry eye in the room.

It's a stunning, intimate ceremony, with only a handful of their closed friends and family, but it's perfect. Cam hasn't stopped smiling all day and that's all that matters to Booth: that his old friend is happy.

* * *

They've just finished eating the meal - which was splendid by the way - and he's now on the dance floor, his hands on his wife's hips as they sway to the music playing.

"Cam looks gorgeous, doesn't she?" Brennan murmurs, her head resting against his shoulder.

"Absolutely. You're still the most beautiful woman in this room though."

Her lips curve upwards at his compliment. "You're very charming, Agent Booth."

"Good." He tugs her impossibly closer to him, loving the feeling of her body pressed against his. "That's my aim."

"Well I _would_ say you're the most handsome man in this room, but..."

He pulls away from her, affronted. Narrowing his eyes, he asks the simple, one-word question. "Who?"

"Cody."

"Their _dog_?" Booth sputters.

Brennan laughs delightedly, taking great enjoyment out of her husband's horror. Cam and Arastoo had decided to adopt a tiny black pug earlier that year and he is _very cute_ , it has to be said. Christine is taken by the little dog and the way she plays with him has Brennan seriously considering the possibility of a Booth family pet.

Her husband sullenly folds his arms across his chest. "I can't believe you think an animal is more handsome than me. I can't believe it."

His childlike expression only serves to make her laugh harder. "I'm only teasing you, Booth. You know how attracted I am to you."

"Mmm." Still sulking, he juts out his lower lip. "Prove it."

Within seconds, Brennan has thoroughly kissed the pout off his lips and he can feel the eyes of the other guests on them. Feeling the temperature of his cheeks rise, he reluctantly pulls away from her. Dumbstruck, all he can say is "wow."

"Was that sufficient evidence, Agent Booth?" She asks, gazing up at him from beneath her eyelashes.

Clearing his throat, he gathers her back in her arms as the band begins playing the next song. "Yeah. Yeah it was."

"I'm pleased."

They continue to dance with each other for the rest of the evening, Brennan occasionally being stolen by Angela and Booth by older female wedding guests crushing on him, but they always end up back in each other's arms. Dancing, kissing or just holding hands as they take breaks at their table, they're never far apart.

As the band plays a more upbeat number and the married couple happily dance with their friends, Brennan throwing her head back with laughter at Booth and Wendell's dorky moves, she feels a small hand tugging at the bottom of her dress. Glancing down, she sees Christine holding Hank's hand, looking up at her eagerly.

"Can we dance, mommy?"

By now, the kids have caught Booth's attention too and he sweeps the little boy up in his arms, Brennan taking Christine's hands and dancing around the floor with her, twisting and twirling the delighted flower girl. Letting go of one of Christine's hands - to the six year old's extreme disappointment - Brennan takes Hank's tiny little hand and Booth takes Christine's newly free one, forming a circle. Brennan knows everyone is staring at them, but she still lets loose, jumping up and down with her favourite people, simply having fun and not caring who's watching.

"This is _so_ much fun!" Christine announces and Booth can't help but agree with her. It has been an excellent wedding - not as good as his and Brennan's, but a wonderful day nonetheless. Spending the day with his friends and family amid a chaotic month of murder investigation is just what he needed to relieve the weight from his shoulders, the tension seemingly permanently coiled in his jaw. And, as he watches Cam and Arastoo dancing, their arms wrapped intimately around each other and their gazes locked on their new spouse, he's glad his friend has finally got her happy ending.

 **This chapter has been written for** ** _ages_** **but I've been unsure whether to post it. Please let me know if you enjoy it! :)**


	7. Dr Booth To The Rescue

**Set after 11x17.**

Booth glances up from the pancake mixture as he hears the familiar patter of his daughter's feet running into the living area. Grinning at her as she races around the island (looking adorable as ever, can he add), he lifts her into his arms as she reaches him.

"Morning, daddy!"

"Good morning, Christine! Sleep well?" He presses a loving kiss to the top of her head while he waits for her response.

"Yeah! I had a super cool dream!"

"You did?" He asks, inserting the appropriate amount of enthusiasm into his tone as he sits her down on the countertop and returns to the pancakes. "What happened?"

"Well, we picked Parker up from the airport and then, instead of coming home, you took us to Disney world! It was the best dream ever! Can we go to Disney world, daddy?"

"That sounds fantastic, sweetheart, but mommy and daddy are swamped at work." _With a serial killer who knows who they are still at large_ , he adds silently. "Maybe soon."

That's enough for the six year old, who then turns her attention to the elaborate breakfast he's preparing. A tray sits next to her on the countertop, a glass vase of daffodils already sitting on it, next to some orange juice and a bowl of greek yoghurt and Brennan's favourite berries. "What're you doing, daddy?"

"Cooking breakfast for mom. She's still sick so I'm trying to make her feel better."

"Oh. So that's why you bought flowers?"

He raises an eyebrow as he pours some of the now-prepared pancake batter into a pan. "What d'ya mean?"

"Normally you only buy mommy flowers when she's angry at you or it's your... anni-anniversarary."

"Anniversary," he corrects softly.

"Right. That."

"I buy your mom flowers all the time, not just when it's our anniversary or she's mad. Do _not_ let her think they're the only reason I buy her flowers," he warns, glancing up from the pan to level a stern glare at his daughter.

The six year old pops a raspberry in her mouth, chewing slowly as she considers something. Then, eventually, she asks, "so why do you buy them?"

" _Why_? 'Cos I love her."

"Then why don't you buy me flowers? You love me too, _right_?"

"Of course I love you!" He replies instantly, abadonning breakfast and wrapping her up in a bear hug because _God_ , he adores this little girl and he can't have her thinking otherwise. "It's just... A different kind of love. You'll understand when you're older."

He returns to flipping his pancakes, catching them easily and feeling a surge of pride whenever his daughter cheers his achievement. He can see her sneaking more raspberries out of the corner of his eye as he finishes up the pancakes, but her sneaky expression is too adorable for him to reprimand her. He'll let it slide just this once. Speaking of, he slides two pancakes onto Brennan's plate, adds some honey and then plates Christine's and hands it to her with a "there you go, sweetheart" and a light kiss to her temple.

"Thanks, daddy! You're the best!"

"I am, aren't I?" He grins broadly. "C'mon, let's go wake up mom. I'll even let you eat breakfast with her in our bed."

Christine beams. She _loves_ cuddling with her parents in their bed. Plus, there's the added bonus of the big TV. Booth helps her down from the counter and she scurries off into their bedroom, leaving Booth to follow in her wake carrying his breakfast treat for his sick wife.

As he enters their room, Christine is already loudly waking Brennan and he shakes his head as his wife stirs awake.

"Bo-oth?" She croaks in confusion, her throat clearly not feeling better.

"Morning, Bones," he says cheerfully, placing the tray on her lap once she's sat herself up. He presses a kiss to her forehead and purses his lips a little. Her temperature is very high. The temptation to take her to the emergency room is overwhelming, but he knows she'd throw a fit if he even tried. Forcing a smile onto his face, he perches himself onto the bed. "How ya doin', Bones?"

"Still not great," she groans, then shares a loving glance with him. "But thanks for making me this."

He shrugs casually. "You do so much for this family everyday, it's the least I could do to make my favourite person feel a little better."

"I really appreciate it," she whispers, taking a bite of the pancakes that practically melt in the mouth. "Mm. Delicious."

"I think Christine likes it, too," Booth laughs, his eyes leaving his beautiful wife for his equally beautiful daughter, her face smeared with nutella.

Brennan's mouth falls open at the mess she's made, attempting to get out of bed to clean up. She's stopped by Booth's hand, gently pushing her back onto the bed. "Booth, I need to-."

"No. Nope. You're doing nothing today. You're going to get some _rest_."

"I can rest later, Christine needs a bath and then Hank will probably need changing. Oh! I have so much washing to do," she worries, trying to climb out of the bed to no avail. " _Booth_."

 _"Bones_ ," he deadpans back. "Rest. Now. Me and Christine can do that, right, monkey?" He holds his fist out to his five year old, who bumps it enthusiastically. "See? Now get some rest. If you even know the meaning of the word."

"Of course I know the meaning of the word, Booth. Don't be absurd. I'm a best selling author, you know," she argues, furrowing her brow at him.

"Yeah, I know, Bones," he responds, smiling softly. "Just... Take it easy until you get better, ok? Please?"

She rolls her eyes at his hopeful expression. "Ok. Fine. But only because you prepared this wonderful breakfast for me. I will not enjoy this day of rest."

"Sure you won't," he chuckles. He places the daffodils on her bedside table and picks up the now empty tray. "Come on, C. We've got lots to do today!"

Fifteen minutes later, as Hank's cries resonate through the house, he pokes his head into their bedroom en route to the baby's nursery. His lips lift in a pleased smile as he sees his wife, already fast asleep, glad she's finally getting the rest she both needs and deserves. As Hank's wails intensify, he pulls himself away from his wife. "I'm coming Hank..."

 **Last night's ep was incredible and I'm probably going to write another one shot based on it... I'm so happy Cam and Arastoo are engaged too (and amazed because I just posted their wedding fic!)**

 **Leave a review if you enjoyed this chapter. :)**


	8. A Father's View

**Max's point of view about the gambling storyline set just after The Woman in the Whirlpool. FYI, I absolute adore Booth and this is not what I think of him AT ALL, I just think Max would be extremely overprotective of Brennan and I was interested in exploring that. :)**

As his car pulls to a stop outside his daughter's and her son of a bitch husband's house, he feels his ire grow. This is where the bastard lived, lying to Tempe through his teeth while gambling all _her_ hard earned money away. "Wait until I get my hands on you Booth…"

He opens his door, gets out and slams it firmly behind him. A warning to Booth. Don't cross an angry Max Keenan. It will not end well. Marching determinedly towards their front door, he stops dead as it's thrown open and a tiny brown haired girl darts from the premises. All his frustrations towards Booth fade away as he catches his granddaughter in his arms and lifts her so she's positioned comfortably on his hip.

"Hey there, beautiful," he says to Christine, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. "How are you?"

"I miss daddy," she pouts. He thinks he sees the beginning of tears forming so he cuddles her close.

Forcing aside his own opinions of Booth, he can accept how difficult it must be for the little girl to be separated from her father. Again. It's not fair. Why couldn't his daughter have married a guy who _wasn't_ a former gambling addict working for the FBI? Life would have been so much easier.

"Christine? Where are you, sweetheart?"

He glances up at Brennan's panicked calling and sees the heavily pregnant body that accompanies the voice appear in the doorway moments later. He lowers Christine to the ground so she can run to her mommy.

"Christine, what did I tell you about opening the door without mommy or daddy?"

"To not do it?"

"That's correct. There could be a nasty person on the other side." Her eyes meet his and he knows she's remembering the threats directed towards her by Booth's bookie – whose name she still will not disclose to him for fear Max would kill the guy. "Do you understand?"

Christine nods and Brennan smiles softly, stroking her fingers through her daughter's hair as Max approaches the two of them.

"Hi, Tempe," he greets, kissing the apple of her cheek. "Nice piece of parenting there. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, dad. Come on in." She places one hand on Christine's back as she guides the four year old back inside the house. Max follows closely behind, shutting the door behind him. "Want a drink?"

"Yeah, coffee, but I'll make it; you're pregnant."

"I'm not sick, dad," she points out, rolling her eyes at his display of overprotectiveness. Even so, she walks over to the couch and sinks into it, watching as he prepares a coffee for him and an herbal tea for her. When both cups are filled, he brings them over to the lounge area and sets the mugs down on the coffee table. "Thank you," Brennan murmurs gratefully.

"You're welcome, sweetheart. It's the least I could do when you've got nobody else here to help you out."

She cocks her head to one side, a disapproving expression on her face due to his not-so-subtle dig at Booth.

He shrugs. "It's not my fault that he's ignoring his responsibilities as a husband and father because he likes making a couple of bets on ponies."

"I was the one to kick him out and you know it," Brennan admonishes.

"Yeah and whose fault was that?" He argues. "Booth's."

"Dad, please," her eyes zoom in on Christine as she plays with her stuffed animals in front of them, "Christine can hear you."

"It wouldn't be a bad thing for her to know her father a-b-a-n-d-o-n-e-d her because he's a g-a-m-b-l-e-r," Max spells out, deflecting Brennan's attempts to defend his son-in-law. In his opinion, there is nothing Booth could have done to betray Brennan more and that upsets him greatly. He'd trusted Booth. He'd trusted the man loved Brennan, that he'd always be there for her when Max couldn't be and now look… Winning a few dollars clearly takes priority over Max's daughter and grandbabies.

"He's an addict, dad, and he's working on it. You should get off your tall steed, you're not so perfect yourself," she hisses so Christine can't hear.

"Do you mean high horse?"

She glares at him until he raises his hands in defeat.

"OK, OK, I'll lay off Booth. But if he hurts you again I swear to God-."

Her glare morphs into a smile as she feels a tiny foot kick her and her hand touches her bump. "He's kicking," she laughs delightedly, loving when she feels her baby move.

"Are they?" Max's own hands come to rest above Brennan's, a grin forming as he, too, feels the sharp kick. He backtracks, his eyes going as wide as saucers. "Did you just say _he_? It's a boy?"

She briefly shuts her eyes and he knows she's cursing her accidental reveal. The couple had wanted to keep the gender to themselves this time so it would be a total surprise for their friends and family. Only Booth, Brennan and their doctor knew, however that's all out of the window now. A quick glance at Christine confirms she's too focused on her bunnies' tea party to pay attention to the adult conversation. Thank God. Booth would have been pissed if Christine found out without him there. Even though Max doesn't really care what Booth wants anymore.

"Yes, it's a boy," she says in hushed tones, albeit reluctantly. "We're having a baby boy."

Gleefully, he embraces his daughter. "Wow… a grandson. How about that, huh, Tempe? One of each. And that' sit, right?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Booth and I haven't discussed it yet but we're very sexually active… I mean we were before all of this happened… it wouldn't be surprising if we conceived again. We're both extremely fertile."

Max winces at his daughter's candour and tendency to overshare, particularly when it comes to her sex life. He certainly didn't raise a shy child, that's for sure.

Just then the doorbell rings and Brennan eases herself up from the couch. "That will be Booth. Behave," she warns.

"Who me?"

"Yes, you." She shoots him one final warning glare before opening the front door, Christine bouncing excitedly beside her. At least one person here is happy to see Booth, Max thinks as he crosses his arms across his chest, doing his best to look as displeased as possible about Booth's arrival. So far, however, his son-in-law is ignoring him as he showers his precious four year old with kisses. He's also highly disappointed that Brennan doesn't look angrier with him as she watches the father-daughter display with an adoring smile. He lied directly to her face. Multiple times. Because of his idiocy, a stranger came to her house and threatened her and her children. So why doesn't she look more pissed off? He decides he'll have to school her later, after Booth finally disappears.

Max continues to observe the small family, his frustration growing exponentially as the FBI agent has the audacity to lean down and kiss Tempe after everything he's put her through, eight months pregnant and all. His thoughts drift to ways he could possibly exert pain upon Booth; kicking him in the private parts quickly rises to the top of his list, as does punching that stupid gambling face of his. He remembers how sweet it had felt in the past and relishes in the prospect of breaking Booth's jaw with his fist. He's so concentrated on the ways in which he can poison Booth, silently wondering if he has any allergies, the man himself appears in front of him.

"Speak of the devil," Max snarls. "Literally. You are the spawn of the devil in my eyes right now, Seeley Booth."

" _Dad!"_ Brennan chastises, covering Christine's ears with her hands.

"Bones, maybe you and my little monkey should go play in her room for a bit while Max and I have a chat."

"Good idea." She takes Christine's hand and lets her lead Brenan towards the four year old's princess themed bedroom.

Once they've left, Max starts on the offensive. "How much money did ya lose today, _traitor?_ "

"Max, please. I know you hate me bu-."

"You're right, I do hate you."

Booth sighs and his interruption and sinks onto the couch next to Max, who, rather childishly, shifts himself as far away as possible from his son-in-law. "I didn't intend to hurt them, Max."

"But you did anyway, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did." Booth drops his head into his hands and Max feels a stab of guilt. But only a small amount. Booth did still hurt his girl when he _promised_ Max at their wedding that he wouldn't. Max isn't sure he can forgive such betrayal.

"Why?"

"Why?" The man's head pops up and his eyes connect with Max's. "Because I've had a rough year. I was attacked in my own home, nearly died, got sent to prison, nearly died there, too, got separated from my wife and children for three months for a crime I was innocent of, watched my best friend die in my arms when it should have been me, lost my grandfather, the man who basically saved my life when I was a kid. Oh, and I come from a family of addicts who all suffered from some form of military PTSD, so I'm screwed genetically anyway. Need I go on?"

Max diverts his gaze, feeling more than a little guilty now. "I told you at your wedding-."

"That if I hurt Bones, you'll kill me." Booth swallows. "I remember."

"You've hurt my daughter beyond what I ever thought you were capable of," Max says. "I thought you loved her."

"I _do_! I love her more than anyone else."

"How am I supposed to believe that now? How can I ever trust anything you say again? How can Tempe?" He questions, his temper flaring.

"My marriage is between me and my wife," Booth argues, his tone equally annoyed. "Back the hell off."

"And you don't think it's my right to protect my daughter against somebody who constantly lies to her? Wouldn't you want to do that for Christine?"

"Yes, I would. But the difference is I don't constantly lie to Bones."

"But you _have_ , Booth. Can't you see it? Can't you see how upset both Tempe and Christine are? Or has staring at those poker chips for too long fried your brain?"

"I _know_ how upset my family are," he almost shouts, beyond frustrated. Max can't tell whether his son-in-law is mad at him or at himself. He thinks it's probably a mixture of both. "You don't think it kills me inside when Christine tells me she misses me? You don't think I can't see Bones fighting her tears whenever we talk? You don't think I hate myself with every fibre of my being that I don't get to wake up next to my wife or feel my baby kick when everybody else gets to?"

Max stays silent as he watches Booth recover from his rant, breathless and with tears welling in his eyes.

He looks directly at Max. "I know you can't forgive me and I understand that and respect the hell out of how much you care for Bones. I really do. However, _I_ need _you_ to understand how hard I'm working here to fight this relapse. Because that's just what this is, a relapse. It's common among addicts and yes, some people let the minor setbacks beat them, but not me. My family means _everything_ to me, Max, and I've been separated from them long enough. Over my dead body will I lose Bones. I love her more than anything or anyone. She's the reason I could get out of bed every morning, even during the days when I was so struck with grief all I wanted to do was lie there and cry. I wouldn't be alive right now and I wouldn't have two of my perfect children if it wasn't for her. I'm going to double the amount of meetings strictly necessary. I'm standing up, sharing. I'm getting better, Max, you have to know that."

A little choked up at Booth's confession, all Max can manage to say is: "wow, you really do love her, huh?"

"Yes," Booth replies emotionally. "I really do. And I miss her so much. I know I royally screwed up and she was absolutely right to kick me out because I think it gave me the encouragement I needed, but still. I miss her so damn much."

A tender smile forms on Max's face. This man really does love his daughter and he only lied to protect her. Max has been guilty of doing a similar thing in the past, but Max abandoned her, something he knows Booth would never and could never do. "I'm sorry, son. For doubting how much you care for your family. You clearly adore them. I'm just so protective of Tempe, I saw red. I'm so sorry."

"It's OK, Max," Booth says, patting him on the shoulder. "Fathers are supposed to be protective of their daughters. I know I don't deserve her – especially not after what I've put her through – but your forgiveness means the world."

"You're very lucky to have her, Seeley Booth. How'd you pull that one off?"

Booth chuckles. "Honestly? I have no idea."

Max grins in return. "She misses you too, ya know. It's just difficult for her to trust people – which I know is down to me – and she's struggling with the concept that the only person she had complete faith in betrayed her. I know my daughter and I know she'll come around. In fact, I promise she will. I've never seen her happier than when she's with you and the kids."

"You think?"

"I know, son. Now, come on, put the game on, would you?"

Booth smiles and switches on the TV, settling back and watching the football with his father-in-law. Their relationship isn't perfect, but they're recovering. It will take a while but, Max thinks, soon enough they'll be back to how they used to be.

He determines to give Booth a bit more slack in the future. After all, everybody can see that he and Brennan belong together.

 **If you have time, please leave a review, I'd really appreciate it. :)**


	9. Sully's Back

**I started writing this one-shot months and months ago, but got distracted with stupid A-levels and other ideas (namely my multi-chapter "** **will you come down, before the sun is gone?" which you should definitely go read after this if you haven't already). But I've been re-watching Bones from the beginning with my dad because he's never seen it before and was re-inspired to finish this chapter. So here goes:**

The elevator doors open, revealing the familiar FBI offices that haven't changed one bit since I sailed away all those years ago. I step out of the elevator and stop to take in my surroundings, suited-up agents bustling past me. Glancing around the bullpen, I instantly recognise a few familiar faces. Not the one I'm looking looking for, but some of the guys from my FBI days have remained. Just as I'm wondering what the hell happened to the other agents, why they left, whether they wanted an escape from the world of murder and cruelty like me, or whether they'd been killed in the line of duty, I feel a tapping on my shoulder. Spinning around on the spot, I find a scrawny-looking agent, who seems too young to be even working at the bureau, let alone in a special agent position.

"Hi there. I'm Special Agent James Aubrey. You look a little lost; is there anything I can help you with?"

"Tim Sullivan." I hold out my hand for Aubrey to shake and am sincerely impressed when the young agent's shake is firm and strong. "I'm here to see Seeley Booth. Can you direct me to him please?"

"He's-."

" _Sully_?"

I turn around to find the shocked expression of one Special Agent Seeley Booth staring back at me. A grin forming on my face, I rush forward to embrace my old buddy in a tight hug.

"What're you doin' here?" Booth asks, clapping me on the back before pulling away. "I thought you were still sailin' around the Caribbean on that boat of yours."

"I am, I am. She's still going strong."

"Still called Temperance?"

"Of course," I respond, a small smile inking onto my face as memories of my brief, yet spectacular, love affair with my beautiful anthropologist flood back to me.

"Wait," Aubrey interrupts, his eyes widening in surprise. "As in Temperance, _Temperance_? Dr. Brennan?"

I grin. "The one and only."

"If you don't mind me asking, why did you name your boat after her? Wasn't that awkward with-."

"They used to date," Booth explains coolly, jutting a thumb in my direction. "A long time ago."

"Wow, _really_?"

"We did indeed. Tempe's the greatest. Speaking of, you two still partners?" The question is directed at Booth, who flushes red under my attention, shifting uncomfortably on the balls of his feet.

"You could say that…"

"What happened? You two have a fight or something?" I chuckle softly, remembering just how much my former girlfriend and her partner had "bickered". Well, that's what they called it. Most of the time, their so-called debates were more like full on bitch fights.

"No, not exactly…" Booth grimaces. "Look, Sull. When I said I wasn't interested in Bones-."

"You were lying through your teeth. I know."

Aubrey's head is swivelling between the two of us like he's at a tennis match as he attempts to follow the conversation between the two old friends. His expression is filled with puzzlement. "You said you weren't interested in Dr. B? _When_?"

"A long time ago. When this one was asking me advice for how to get my partner into bed."

"Hey! You _said_ you were OK with it," I protest.

"And I was. Kind of." At my dubious look, Booth concedes. "OK, fine. I was jealous."

"You've _always_ been jealous of me," I tease.

"Not anymore. Bones and I-. We got married."

My eyes bug wide because, _what?_ They're married? "Woah. When did _that_ happen?"

"Nearly four years ago, now."

"Wow. I-. Um. Congratulations, man." I shake Booth's hand, a broad grin on my face as I fight against the disappointment surging through me like a tidal wave. Honestly, I'd kind of hoped Tempe would still be single when we inevitably reunited, but I guess I never should have been so naïve as to expect a woman as beautiful as Temperance Brennan to wait around for my flaky ass. "That's great news. I'm happy for you."

"Thanks. We're very happy. We have two kids now, and Parker," he says, pulling out his cell from his pocket and opening up a picture of all five of them together.

I'm immediately struck by how much of a _family_ they look. In the picture, all five of them are wearing matching Christmas jumpers and are stood in front of the huge tree adorned with a mixture of exquisite ornaments I assume Tempe chose, ice skates dangling from the branches – Booth's – and an assortment of homemade baubles and the like, probably made by their children in school. Speaking of, their children look exactly like their parents. Obviously there's Parker, but their youngest child, the boy, is an almost carbon-copy of Booth and the girl… Her eyes are blue like her mother's and that smile is the same. I'd recognise that smile from anywhere. Behind the three kids are Booth and Brennan, the former with his hand encircled around the latter's waist, his hand comfortably resting there.

"They're beautiful," I say, looking back up at Booth. "What're their names?"

"Christine and Hank-."

"Christine after Tempe's mother."

Booth nods, seemingly surprised that I've remembered after all these years. "And Hank is named after my Pops who died just before he was born. We love them all very much."

"I imagine you do. One good lookin' family there, Booth."

"Oh, I know," he responds, puffing up his chest. Aubrey and I share similar amused smirks as we move the conversation into Booth's office, out of the way of the chaotic bullpen. "So how have things been for you? Met anybody _special?"_

I lift one shoulder in a casual shrug. "Well, you know, an attractive guy like me can't keep the ladies away for too long."

Booth barks with laughter, shaking his head at me. "Seem very sure of yourself there, Sull."

"Hey, I've kept in shape. Still play basketball. Women like that stuff. How 'bout you, old man? You still play?"

"Hockey here and there if I've got the time. I see you dodged the question there though, pal." Booth raises his eyebrows. "Does that mean you're with somebody?"

"Maybe." An embarrassed flush graces my cheeks. "Her name's Nathalie. She's beautiful, kind, sweet, makes me laugh. I was thinking of proposing but-."

"But what?"

"I wanted to know whether any… alternative options were still possible, or not," I murmur under my breath, deliberately avoiding Booth's gaze. By "alternative options", it's clear who I mean and it's utterly _humiliating_ having to confess that in front of her husband and the father of her children. I'm also pretty scared he might slug me.

Aubrey's mouth drops open, realising what direction this conversation is headed. And it's pulling straight into Awkward Town. "I'm, uh, gonna go… I have some files… you know… FBI stuff… See ya."

Booth chuckles uneasily, watching Aubrey hurry out as quickly as he can. "He's a good cop. Huge nerd, but he's good, even if it doesn't seem like it."

"Nah, he sounds nice. Seems to really care about you."

"Yeah, he helped me and Bones out a lot a while back when I got into some gambling trouble, you know? He's a sweet kid. Christine adores him," he says, steering the conversation away from where it had been leading as much as he can. I assume that he doesn't particularly want to delve into _that_ right now. Or ever.

But I press onwards, feeling the need to address the elephant in the room. How can we ever move on if we don't deal with the past, you know? "About Tempe…"

As I had suspected he would, Booth holds up his palm. "Look, Sull, I get it, you loved her. Probably still do – I wouldn't blame you. I just… don't particularly want to talk about you and my wife… together… like that."

" _Booth_?"

I spin around, my mouth dropping open when I see Tempe stood in the doorway to Booth's office, her expression morphing into a similar one of surprise.

"Sully! What are you doing here?" She hurries towards me and I outstretch my arms. They wrap around her effortlessly, like all our years apart have just evaporated. It's so natural, so right, I forget the fact that her husband is sat on the other side of his desk.

"Came to visit you, of course. I missed you, Tempe." Her hair is in my face and I can't help but sniff, pleased when I discover it stills smells exactly the same as it did when we were a couple. Vanilla with a hint of coconut _._ My favourite.

"I missed you too, Sully," she says softly and my heart hops in my chest. _God_ , how could I have ever left this woman? What was I _thinking_?

Booth clears his throat behind us and I jump away from Brennan, startled. "Hey, Bones."

"Hi, Booth," she responds, her chinks pinking. I watch, entranced, as she makes her way to her husband's side and wraps her arms around his centre, evidently trying to make up for the intimate embrace we'd shared seconds earlier. She snuggles into him and, I have to admit, as much as it hurts seeing the two of them together, they do look right, like they belong.

"You have some information on the case?"

"Oh, no. Wendell is cleaning the bones and there's nothing I can do until afterwards, so I wondered if you wanted to go for an early lunch at the Diner."

"Sounds good to me, Bones," he smiles, his eyes dancing with delight at Brennan's spontaneous offer. As their eyes meet, it's like I'm no longer there in the room with them. They're completely enamoured with each other even after four years of marriage and three children, it's obvious to see. And they both look extremely happy – especially Tempe. She looks so much more at ease now and very in love with her partner in crime and in life.

"You can come too, if you like," she offers generously, but I shake my head.

"No, no, it's fine. I don't want to intrude."

"It's cool, man, we're just going to the Diner-."

"I know. You should go."

"Are you sure?" Tempe questions, not wanting to leave me out. _Always had a lot of heart, that one_ , I think.

"Absolutely," I assure her with a confident smile. "Go."

"Maybe we can have dinner together another day," Booth suggests. "You could meet the kids. How long you here for?"

"A week. And I'd love that."

"Cool. Here's our house number" – he scribbles the series of numbers on a spare piece of paper and hands it over to me – "give us a call when you're available, all right?"

"OK. Have a nice lunch," I say, smiling at them as they leave his office, their arms still firmly wrapped around each other. I follow behind them, stopping in the bullpen to simply watch. The light glints off their wedding bands, a harsh reminder of how much their lives have altered since I sailed away all those years ago. Their partnership is no longer platonic – they're married and obviously happily so. They have a real, honest-to-goodness family and although my heart tinges with regret that it's not me holding her, loving her, like Booth is right now, I accept that there is no chance those two are ever divorcing. My chance to be with Tempe has well and truly gone.

As they reach the elevator doors, she breaks away at the last second, stretching her arm forward so she can press the button before him, smirking gleefully at her husband when she wins. I shake my head. They haven't changed _that_ much after all – still competitive as ever.

 **I did actually really love Sully – I thought he was a lot of fun and good for Brennan. I wish he could come back for one more episode (even though it's super, super unlikely!)**

 **Review?**


	10. First Sully, Now Hannah

**Another story I wrote months ago that I was hesitant to post because the "Hannah returns" stories are so overdone, but I wanted to give it a try for myself. Hope you like it. :)**

" _Temperance_?"

Brennan turns around just as she's about to enter the Royal Diner, her expression filling with surprise as she sees the blonde beauty approach her, a similar look of shock reflected in her own face. "Hannah!"

As the journalist closes the distance between the two, she seems to hesitate, before embracing her old friend in a tight hug. "Wow - what's it been, six years?"

"Yes, I believe so," Brennan says, smiling as she pulls away, admiring the way Hannah's hair is still so perfect, her face having barely aged. "What a surprise! How have you been?"

"Good, good. Busy! Work's been crazy." Her eyes scanning Brennan's smart, yet casual outfit, she notices a sparkling ring on her left hand, her eyes widening, the pitch of her voice rising exponentially. "You're _married_?"

Glancing down at the ring she's worn proudly for the last three years, a smile peeks onto her face. "Yes, I am. I'm very happy."

Hannah smiles too. Of all people, she never thought Temperance Brennan would be one to get married. She thought that was one of the things they had in common, why they understood each other well enough to be friends. Neither had wanted to settle down with a family, both preferring to focus on their careers and personal success. She seems happy though, increasing Hannah's curiosity about the man who'd managed to change Brennan's belief system. Eyes sparkling, she asks, "so, who's the lucky man?"

Brennan hesitates, not knowing if this will make the situation incredibly awkward. Her husband is, after all, Hannah's ex-boyfriend. "It's-. Um. Booth."

Hannah's smile falls at the name she hasn't heard in such a long time, but thinks of almost every day. "Bo-oth?" Her voice cracks as she repeats Brennan's words, needing confirmation.

"Yes," Brennan says matter-of-factly, twisting the wedding band on her finger in the way she always does when she's feeling uncomfortable. "We also have two children together, plus Parker, of course."

"Parker." She blows out a breath, a heap of emotions she hasn't acknowledged in years overwhelming her. How she left her relationship with Booth. His son. Her friendship with Brennan that just dissipated after her break-up with Booth. "Wow, Parker. How is the little guy?"

"Not so little anymore," Brennan says tenderly. "He's living in London with his mom and has been for sometime. He's doing well though."

" _London_? I bet Seeley's taking that one hard."

"It was hard at first, but I was pregnant with our daughter when he left, so Booth had a distraction."

Intrigued, she asks, "what's her name?"

Brennan can't stop the smile that emerges as she thinks of her precious little girl. "Christine. She's named after my mom. And our youngest is Henry, but we all call him Hank, like-."

"Pops," Hannah answers.

"Yes. Pops." Brennan glances around and sees Booth approach. They had plans to meet for lunch at the diner, but when he sees the two of them stood outside their favourite place to eat, he stops in his tracks, his mouth falling open. Brennan shoots him a small, inviting smile and he slowly walks over, his hand resting in one pocket, his body language exuding awkwardness. When he finally reaches them, he lightly kisses Brennan's cheek. "Hi," she says.

"Hey, Bones." He turns to Hannah and swallows. "Um. Hi. It's, uh, been a while."

"It has. How are you, Seeley?"

"I'm good." _Immensely uncomfortable_ , he adds internally. "Happy. And you?"

"I'm happy too. I've gotten a couple of promotions over the years so I'm doing well."

"I'm glad to hear it. Shall we go inside, Bones?"

"Ok. Hannah?"

The blonde's eyes widen. "No, no. I don't want to intrude..."

"Nonsense. It's fine for Hannah to join us for lunch, isn't it, Booth?"

"Yeah. 'Course. C'mon in here, don't be silly." He opens the door to the Royal Diner, Hannah entering first and Brennan second, Booth last, following them over to their usual table. Booth sits beside Brennan, his arm resting casually on the back of her chair, not even thinking about his ex-girlfriend sitting opposite them. "What d'ya want to order, Bones?"

"Tea and some vegetable soup for me, please, Booth." She glances up at Hannah. "Do you remember the menu?"

The blonde chuckles at the fact the regular patrons have memorised the establishment's menu. "I'll just have a burger and coffee, thank you, Temperance. I take it you're having coffee and pie, Seeley." He shrugs bashfully and she smirks. "You haven't changed at all, have you?"

"Well. I've grown up a little, I think."

Brennan shakes her head incredulously. "Don't listen to him, Hannah. He's such a child. Do you know what he wanted for Christmas? A jet ski. A _jet ski_."

"Alright, alright," he says, screwing up his face and teasingly pointing at his wife. "That thing was seriously cool, doesn't make me a child."

Her eyebrow arching, Brennan glances conspiratorially at Hannah. "You see?"

She laughs lightly as the waitress comes over to take their order, her eyes never leaving the married couple. Booth has pulled his chair over so he's sitting as close to Brennan as he possibly can, the arm that rests on the back of her chair making circular motions on her shoulder. The look he gives her, even as she does a task as simple as ordering the meal, is like she hung the moon, full of pride, amazement...love. For her part, Brennan is looking back at her husband in a similar way.

It hits Hannah like a sucker punch.

She realises that _of course_ they love each other, Temperance had already told her they were married with children. But _seeing_ their love on such open display in front of her? She has to admit, it really hurts. A few years ago, Booth was looking at _her_ like that, the role reversal breaking her heart a little.

"So, Hannah," Brennan begins, leaning forward on her elbows, "are you seeing anyone? You know, dating, sleeping with?"

Booth coughs sharply, his eyes bugged, his expression showing his deep discomfort. "I think she gets it, Bones."

"I've dated a few guys over the years, but nothing serious," she confesses, her eyes meeting Booth's. The message is clear. No relationship as serious as theirs.

"The implication being that your lasting feelings for Booth have made it difficult for you to move on from him in your love life, yes?"

The blonde's face flushes a deep red.

Booth looks like he wants to die.

Brennan's face as she waits for Hannah's response is calm, neutral, but Hannah doesn't doubt the woman's ability to beat her to the ground if she makes one wrong move. "You can answer, Hannah. We're all adults here. Friends, right?"

"Right." Her jaw is tight, resisting the urge to blurt out any lingering feelings she does still have for Booth. She really likes Temperance and doesn't want to ruin their relationship over some dumb uncontrollable feelings that will never change anyway. Seeing him in a loving and mutually beneficial relationship with Brennan... She's never seen him happier. "I mean... Maybe it's been... Hard... To move on from the most serious relationship I've ever had... But it's not like I still _love_ him or anything... He's with you, Temperance and he seems very happy."

"I am," he clarifies, watching Brennan tenderly. Hannah catches the loving look and swallows. He never - throughout the entirety of their relationship - looked at her the way he looks at Brennan. While she knows he loved her - that, at least, is not in doubt - it was never with the same intensity that he clearly loves Brennan now. She catches his eyes and comes to the realisation Brennan's the one for him and always had been. She realises now that if they hadn't broken up after the rejected proposal, he would have done it anyway some point down the line.

"You two love each other very much," she says, voicing part of her internal monologue. "It's beautiful seeing how happy you make each other."

The couple share a sweet smile, Brennan's hand softly resting on his cheek. She strokes the pad of her thumb over the skin, the slight patch of stubble that resides there. "We are very much in love," she confirms. Then, obviously realising how that sounds, she murmurs an apology.

"No, don't," Hannah objects determinedly. "Don't feel bad about getting to be with your soulmate. I'm delighted for you."

"You are?" Booth seems stunned.

" _Yes_. Absolutely. Now, come on, show me some pictures of your little munchkins. I can't wait to see."

Doing as she requests, Booth pulls out his phone, unlocks it, and opens up the "family" album. He hands it to Hannah, their fingers making contact for 0.1 seconds. While once she would have felt a spark of electricity, she feels nothing and knows this is a step in the right direction. She hopes they'll one day be able to just be friends. Focusing on the hundreds of photos in front of her, ranging from Parker's childhood to Christine's early days to now, with their latest addition, each new photograph she clicks on is more adorable than the last. Her lips twitch into a smile. "They're beautiful, Temperance. Your daughter looks just like you."

"She really does, right?" Booth pipes in, his tone effused with pride. "Aren't they both gorgeous?"

" _Booth_." 

"What?" He lifts one shoulder in a casual shrug. "It's the truth."

"He's right, Temperance," Hannah says, laughing as her cheeks pink. Looking at a new picture, she murmurs, "and this is your new son? Aww, he's precious!"

"I know. We're extremely lucky to have such beautiful children."

Hannah smiles. Then, curious, asks, "how old is Christine? She's getting big!"

"Five years old," Brennan replies, noting that Booth's head seems downcast.

Hannah begins to choke on the glass of water she's drinking. "She's _five_? That means she was born five years ago?"

"Yes, obviously," Brennan answers, furrowing her brow. "Is something wrong?"

The blonde pulls back from the table, the chair legs scraping against the floor, creating a truly horrible sound. Hannah leans back, her eyes fixed on the tabletop, unable to look either her ex-boyfriend or once good fried in the eye. She knows what this means. It wasn't long after she left that they...

"Hannah-," Booth tries.

"No, Seeley. I-." One palm facing the couple, she draws in a sharp breath. "I just need some air." She hurries out of the diner, unknowingly followed by one Seeley Booth.

"Hey," he whispers after a while.

She turns to face him. "I-."

"I know. I know what this must look like, but-."

"You've always loved her," Hannah finishes his sentence.

"Yes." 

"Did you-," she swallows harshly, "-even love me?"

" _Yes_ ," he repeats, his tone firmer. "I did. Our relationship was real. It was important to me. When we met... Bones and I were going through some stuff. Realising our feelings for each other. Admitting them. But Bones didn't want to ruin our partnership. So, she went to Maluku and I went to Afghanistan..."

"And met me."

They exchange meaningful glances. "You made me very happy. And I loved you, I did. But you also broke my heart and Bones..." His lips quirk at the thought of his wife. "She was there for me. I started realising I was never over her, even though I thought I was. So, we got closer and closer, got trapped in my elevator together - long story - and ended up confessing that we wanted to make a relationship work. Bad things happened, Bones lost one of her favourite interns, and we took comfort in one another."

Hannah closes her eyes. "You had sex."

"Yes," he responds honestly. "We did. We started navigating a more... Personal relationship. And then Angela has her baby and we're walking back from the hospital and Bones is all freaked out, talking about parenthood and stuff, worrying if Hodgins and Angela will be alright. She stops and then tells me she's pregnant. And I'm the father." He grins like he did on that day, one of the best days of his life.

"How long was this after I left?"

"Couple of months."

She winces. Though she'd realised he would probably move on from their break-up quickly - he is, after all, extremely attractive - she didn't think he'd move on - with a new family of his own, no less - only a few months after her. Even six years later, her feelings still haven't diminished, but he... He moved on fast.

"I'm sorry if that hurts, but it's the truth."

"I'm happy for you, Seeley - that you finally have the perfect family life you always wanted. I wish I could have given that to you, but I couldn't." She closes her eyes as a single tear slips down her cheek. She reopens them and can see Brennan watching them closely through the diner windows. "You should go back to your wife."

"Hey, are you ok?" He asks, touching her shoulder comfortingly.

"I will be," she nods. "Go."

"Ok." He makes to leave, when Hannah calls his name. Turning back to her, his expression is quizzical.

"Can I give you my new number? For Temperance. So we can keep in touch."

"Sure, she'd love that."

Hannah smiles gratefully and takes out her card from her pocket. Booth accepts it easily and with one last friendly smile, returns to his favourite person.

"Hey," she says quietly as he retakes his seat beside her.

"Hey."

"What did she say?" She's still looking out the window, watching as the blonde hair disappears in the distance.

"She's hurt that I moved on so quickly, but she's happy for us." He slides the business card across the table. "Gave me this for you. Said she wants to keep in touch."

"That will be nice."

"Yeah." He grins, sipping his coffee. "It will be."

 **Honestly, I liked Hannah. Her relationship with Booth made me uncomfortable because she definitely wasn't the right person for him, but I loved how she was still good friends with Brennan. I thought that was sweet.**

 **Review? :)**


	11. Dance Class

**If any of you have seen Sunnie Pelant's instagram, you'll know she's an awesome dancer, so I wanted to include a little piece of that here. Hope you enjoy :)**

"Do you think she's ok?" He asks worriedly, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as they wait in the car, his wife beside him, his son sleeping in the car seat in the back.

"Christine is _fine_ ," Brennan finds herself telling him for the eight hundredth time since they agreed to enrol their six year old in dance classes. "You know how excited she's been for this class, she'll be over the stars right now."

He shakes her head a little at her misquote. His wife and her idioms. Honestly, he doesn't think it will ever not be cute. "Over the moon," he corrects.

"That's what I said."

"Right," he chuckles softly, then glances over his shoulder at little Hank. His eyes are slipping shut, the one year old on the verge of sleep. One side of Booth's mouth ticks up in a smile as he watches his son drift off. "He's asleep," he murmurs, turning back to Brennan.

"I'm glad; he's been struggling to sleep for the last few nights. I wonder whether he's developing a cold..."

"I'm sure the little guy's just fine. You're concerned over nothing."

"Just like you with Christine and her dance class," she points out, her tongue poking through her lips playfully.

He blows a breath out through his mouth. "I suppose you're right. I just - what if she hurts herself?"

"Booth, it's ballet for six year olds. The chance of injury is statistically very low."

"I know that," he says, pausing as he considers his words. "For some reason, I can't stop worrying about her though."

"That's because you're a great dad."

"I am?" He looks over at her, his expression genuinely uncertain.

She takes his hand in hers over the central console, squeezing it supportively. "You're the best dad in the world. Our kids are so fortunate to have you."

His mouth quirks into a smile. "Thanks, Bones. They have the best mom, too."

"Well, that goes without saying," she teases and he lets out a loud laugh because _God,_ he loves this woman more than anything.

"I feel better now."

"Good." She puckers her lips for a kiss and he grants her wish, their lips meeting chastely. "We could probably go in by now, peek through the windows to watch."

"Sounds good to me." Knowing his daughter, she'll come home and perform the dance for him at least one hundred times, but he thinks he would be nice to see her in the real thing - with the music, outfit and other tiny girls.

They climb out of the car, Booth lifting a slumbering Hank out of his carrier and up onto his shoulder. They lock the doors behind them and make their way into the community centre where Christine's ballet classes take place. Brennan leads the way to the parent's waiting area outside the main studio; the teacher - Miss Taylor - insists on parents waiting outside so as to not distract them from their dancing. According to the other moms, she's quite strict about that rule and _will_ yell at anybody poking their head through the windows in the door.

They take the seats directly opposite the studio so they have a view in, while not being too disruptive. Booth strokes Hank's back soothingly as he and Brennan talk in low voices, discussing a mixture of what to have for dinner, their latest case and weekend plans.

They can feel other eyes upon them - a big, strong, attractive man in a nicely tailored suit holding an adorable baby boy does seem to garner a lot of unwanted attention, especially from other women. Booth steadfastly ignores them, focused on the small glass cutout in the door where he can see flashes of pink tulle leaping and twirling past the window.

"Christine seems to be doing well," he muses, his lips centimetres from Brennan's ears.

A small, proud smile grows on his wife's face. "Of course she is. She's very talented."

"I know she is," he replies, bouncing Hank on his knees. "I wonder what our little guy will be good at."

"Anthropology, hopefully. He loves dancing phalanges, so we're in with a chance, I think."

She demonstrates their son's love of the move by waggling her fingers in front of the now-awake baby boy, both Booth and Brennan delighting in the sound of his adorable laughter.

"Maybe, Bones, maybe."

He hears the music fade away and the door opens, a herd of tiny ballerinas scurrying out. Christine is near the back but when she breaks through the crowd, her beaming smile is unmissable - and very heartwarming. As she jumps into Brennan's waiting arms and is lifted up onto her mother's hip, her face is lit up with happiness, her eyes shining.

"Did you enjoy your first dance class?" Booth asks because it looks like she's about to burst with all the things she wants to tell them.

"I _loved_ it, daddy! It was so much fun and there was another girl - Simone - who was having her first lesson too," she babbles excitedly as the family of four leave the community centre for their car parked up in the lot outside. "She was so good and her hair is _so_ pretty and and we got to practise the routine and Miss Taylor said I could be a ballerina on stage when I'm older - _how cool would that be_?"

"Very cool," Brennan responds, sharing a look of amusement with her husband. During the documentary filming she'd proudly announced she wanted to be a car salesman, then a week later she changed her mind and wanted to write books "like mommy" and now, ballet is seemingly her new career of choice.

Booth suspects she'll change her mind a million times - he did - but they promise her every time that they'll be proud of her no matter what career path she goes down, just like they will with her two brothers.

He unlocks the car door as they near it and Brennan opens up the left rear door so Christine can climb into her carseat and Booth does the same on the other side with Hank. As they're buckling the kids in, Christine continues babbling on and it's not until Booth mentions having ice cream after dinner that she silences.

"Chocolate _and_ strawberry?" She questions, her eyes wide.

"Christine, you know you can only have one. Too much sugar rots your teeth," Brennan chastises.

The six year old turns her doe eyes on her father, trying her luck with him. Unfortunately for Booth, it hasn't taken Christine long to realise he's incapable of refusing that look from either of his girls, so he assures her with a subtle nod of his head that she can have two scoops rather than one.

"Yay! Thanks daddy!"

Brennan narrows her eyes. "What did you do, Booth?"

"Nothing, nothing." He finishes buckling Hank in, lightly pinches his chubby cheeks and shuts the door, climbing into the drivers seat. Brennan quickly follows suit, still chasing after him to find out what he promised his daughter.

"Did you say she could have more ice cream?"

When he says nothing, focusing on where he's going as he neatly reverses out of his spot and drives towards the parking lot exit, she cries out in annoyance.

"Booth, _no_!"

"Just this once won't kill her, Bones. Come on. I'll give you a massage later if you let us have our delicious frozen treats." He gives her his signature charm smile and waggles his eyebrows.

If his wife's and his daughter's eyes are Booth's weakness, Booth's charm smile is _most certainly_ Brennan's.

She concedes almost instantaneously, to rapturous cheers from Booth and Christine, whilst Hank - desperate to get in on the action - gurgles happily.

" _Ice cream_!" Comes Christine's exited shout, mingled in with Booth's laughter.

"That's right. Let's go get some ice cream for my beautiful ballerina," he says as turns left towards their local parlour.

"Booth, we said after dinner!" She admonishes. " _Booth_!"

"I'll make it a massage and a bubble bath." He flashes her that damn charm smile again and she almost melts.

 _Damn him._

Lo-and-behold, twenty minutes later, they're seated in the ice cream parlour, Hank with the chocolatey substance all around his mouth and down his shirt where it had dripped, Christine already two-thirds into her sundae and Brennan with two scoops instead of just one. Booth had convinced her to be a little crazy for once and, after her daughter's enthusiastic encouragement, she'd easily agreed.

All worries fade away as they eat their desserts and fall into the casual domesticity which both Booth and Brennan absolutely adore, Christine still chattering away about how she's going to be the best dancer in the entire world, after just one hour-long session.

 _Like mother, like daughter_ , Booth thinks with a wry smile.

 **Review?**


	12. A Casual Saturday Morning

**Just a pointless little drabble I wrote ages ago and forgot to post. Enjoy :)**

Faint laughter from the other side of the house draws Brennan out of her sleep. Her eyes half-lidded, she rolls over, expecting to find her slumbering husband, his mussed hair, his broad chest bare and his pyjama pants slung low on his hips. However, unlike usual, he is not there. Suddenly more awake, she sits up, rubs at her eyes and looks around their bedroom. Also not there. Beginning to get a bit worried, she slips out of bed and pulls on her robe, the cold December air causing a shiver to run through her body. She checks the kitchen first, only to find he is not there. Biting her lip, she decides the children's bedrooms are the next best option. Padding barefoot down the hallway towards Christine and Hank's rooms, she smiles softly at all the photograph frames on the walls. Their wedding. Christine's first birthday. Christine and Parker. Her and Angela. Booth and Sweets. The whole team together just after the birth of Seeley Lance Wick Sweets. Christine and Hank. More wedding photographs, plus ones from her childhood (the happy times.) For somebody who didn't ever think she could have this life after her parents left, who didn't think she deserved a family of her own, she sure does have a lot of beautiful memories. Mostly thanks to her incredible husband.

She pops her head into the nursery as she passes, to find Hank's crib empty and no sign of him or his father. Continuing on to Christine's room, she hears a familiar bark of laughter, entwined with a musical giggle and her lips quirk into a smile. She quickly enters the room, her eyes widening as she takes in the sight in front of her.

There are toys strewn everywhere, books fallen to the floor and Christine's patterned bed covers have been draped over chairs to form a fort. The laughter emanates from there.

Brennan steps nearer, then lifts the sheets and pokes her head through the gap. What she sees makes her heart flutter in her chest. Booth is lying on his front, Hank sitting on his back and Christine is sat next to them, chirping away happily.

"Hey there, you three," she murmurs, her favourite people's eyes darting over to her.

"Hi, Bones," comes Booth's response, a grin on his face. "Did we wake you?"

"No, no. You just weren't there when I woke up." Her silent message brings a twinkle to Booth's eye. He knows she sleeps better whenever he's there to snuggle up with. "Can I join you?"

"Can she join us, Christine?" He asks his daughter, clearly the leader of the bedroom fort.

"Of course. Come play, mommy."

Brennan grins and slips under the covers, sitting cross-legged in the small space next to her husband. She leans down to peck his lips, the domesticity of the situation causing her heart to swell. The fact that, after everything they've been through, they get to live this normal, yet tremendously happy family life means more to her than she can put into words. Which is extremely embarrassing for somebody so intelligent such as herself to admit.

Hank crawls off Booth and into Brennan's lap, gurgling delightedly when she wraps her arms around him to cuddle him close. She peppers kisses to the top of his hair, loving the feeling of having her son snuggling into her chest.

"Such a mommy's boy," Booth remarks, shaking his head with a soft smile on his face.

Brennan glances up at his words, her cheeks glowing with pride. For someone who didn't think they'd be able to connect with their kids, she really is adored by them. Neither Christine nor Hank can get enough of her and the sentiment is strongly returned by Brennan.

"We can play for another fifteen minutes, sweetheart," she says to her six year old, "but then we need to get you ready for ballet class, mm'k?"

"OK, mommy! Look, I'm a fairy!" She spins around excitedly, showing off the glittering net wings she's put on over her favourite pair of pyjamas.

"That's quite a look, baby."

Brennan narrows her eyes at her husband, then turns back to Christine. " _I_ think you make a very beautiful fairy," she says, her tone prissy.

"Thank you, mommy. Daddy's just jealous he's not a pretty fairy like me."

"I believe you are correct, sweetheart," she replies teasingly.

"Hey! I would make a _great_ fairy," Booth retorts. "Let me show you!"

Christine's brow furrows adorably as she asks him how.

"I'll put your wings on."

After some cajoling on Booth's part to convince his daughter to separate with her favourite fairy wings she'd been bought courtesy of Auntie Angela, she eventually concedes and spins around. Brennan gently removes the wings for her and passes them over to her husband, who - with some precise manoeuvring - manages to get the sparkly pink netting shaped like wings on his back.

"How do I look?"

"Mmm. I'd give you 3/10," Christine decides.

" _3/10_?" He repeats, aghast. "That low? What did I do to you?"

"Not me, daddy. The fairy princess says you're not good enough to be one of her subjects. Plus, only the most specialist boys are allowed."

"And I'm not special?"

"Nope," she responds, her lips creating a popping sound.

"What about Hank?" He gestures to his baby boy currently playing with his mom's hair. "Would the fairy princess accept him?"

She considers it for a moment, watching him scrupulously. Then, "yes. He's cute. The fairy princess likes cute boys."

" _And I'm not cute_?!"

"You're _old_ , daddy," she says, scrunching up her nose.

Brennan has to firmly press her lips together to stifle her laughter, her body shaking as Booth shoots her a knowing glare.

"Do you not want to defend your husband here, Bones?"

"Fine, fine." A small laugh escapes along with her words so she takes a couple of deep breaths to console herself. "Christine, you need to get washed and dressed for ballet now or else we'll be late and you don't want that now, do you?"

She shakes her head frantically and dashes to the nearest bathroom.

Booth stretches out a bit, the exit of his daughter creating slightly more space in the cramped fort that was not designed for a giant 6'1" FBI agent. "Am I really old, Bones?"

"Well, you're old _er_ than me," she teases, her eyes glinting with amusement, "but no, you're not old. Thanks to your impressive musculature and bone structure, you still look young and _definitely_ attractive."

"Impressive musculature, huh?" He wiggles his eyebrows at her flirtatiously, a smirk on his face.

" _Very_ impressive."

She's practically leering at him, her eyes dark with lust and he has to gulp. Nothing can happen with their son sat between them.

"I'm- uh... I should get the little guy ready too," he says, his voice coarse as his gaze remains on his wife's heated one.

"Good idea. I'll help Christine."

Booth crawls out of the fort first, Brennan following behind him, getting a very pleasing view of his Gluteus Maximus. As she stands, she hands Hank over to her husband, the hairs on her forearm standing up as their skin touches. His eyes, as he stares at her, are full of promise.

 _Later_.

Perhaps they should drop the kids off with her father, she thinks, so she and Booth can have some much needed time alone.

Mmm. That sounds appealing.

Her lips ticking up in a sexy smile as she anticipates the day's upcoming activities sans Hank and Christine, Brennan has never been more excited for a dance class (that hasn't even started yet) to be over.

 **Review?**


	13. Hank's First Word

Entering Hank's room, Brennan is surprised to find Christine already in there, kneeling in front of his crib, her face pressed against the bars. Curious, Brennan steps forward and the one-sided conversation between her two children comes into earshot.

"Hank, can you say Christine? Chrriiisssttiiiinnnneeee," she calls to him, the one year old simply gurgling in response. The big sister throws back her head in exasperation, her repeated attempts to get Hank to utter her name becoming fruitless, once again. She's been trying for the past two weeks, ever since Brennan voiced her feelings that he was close to speaking his first word.

A tender smile on her face at the scene before her, Brennan nears the crib, and rests her hands on Christine's shoulders, the little girl turning in excitement at her mother's approach.

"Mommy!" She jumps into Brennan's arms, flinging her own arms around her mom's neck.

"Good morning, sweetheart," Brennan murmurs into her soft hair, dropping a few errant kisses on the top of her head. "What're you doing?"

"Trying to get Hank to talk," the six year old says in response as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Brennan hides her grin in her daughter's hair. "I want Christine to be his first word but he's not co- corpor- ating."

"Good word, Christine," Brennan congratulates, pride seeping through her tone. "Although, Christine is a rather difficult word to say. Most babies pick easier ones to pronounce: mama, dada, juice, etc because their vocal chords haven't fully developed."

"But I'm his favourite person! He loves me way more than juice!"

"Of course he does, sweetheart," Brennan chuckles. "But that's just the way the world works. I imagine it will be sometime before he can say your name."

The big sister lets out a loud sigh of disappointment. Suddenly more interested, she asks, "what was my first word?"

"Dada." Stroking her light brown hair, Brennan reminisces back to that day, how proud she'd been when her little girl spoke for the first time (before all of her friends, can she add). "Daddy showed off about it for _months_."

"Showed off about what?"

Turning, they see Booth standing at the entrance to the nursery, his hair mussed from sleep, his chest bare and his pants slung low on his hips. Brennan grins; her husband looks _so_ good right now. Distracted by his appearance, she forgets to answer his question and the next thing she knows, his gloriously chiselled chest is in front of her and his hand is waving in front of her eyes, trying to attract her attention.

" _Bones_?"

Oh. Right. She clears her throat. "That Christine said 'Dada' before 'Mama'. If I recall correctly, you were very happy about that turn of events."

"Of course I was! My little girl said my name first! But hey, what distracted you before?" His eyes sparkle knowingly.

Brennan glances at Christine, sees she's returned to the side of Hank's crib, determined he will say her name first, despite her mommy's reservations. Brennan takes a step closer to Booth, her lips quirking. "I think you know what."

"Was it your super hot, half-naked husband, by any chance?" He's smirking now and Brennan wants nothing more than to drag him back to their bedroom, but knows they have to get to work and the kids to school and daycare respectively.

"Perhaps," she responds, running her hands up his chest and snaking them around his neck. He swoops in for a kiss and for several blissful seconds everything fades away and it's just the two of them. Then Brennan feels Christine pull on her dressing gown.

"Mommy, stop kissing daddy."

"No, mommy, don't listen to her," Booth argues, scrunching up his face in annoyance at his own child scheming against him. "More kisses."

Brennan laughs, kissing him chastely before letting Christine drag her to Hank's crib. "Hi there, Hank," she says, her hand reaching into the crib to take her son's tiny little hand.

He gurgles, a wide grin on his face.

"He really loves his mama," Booth muses, standing behind Brennan, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"He loves Christine more!" Christine pipes up, nodding seriously at Booth's questioning look. "I'm his favourite person. He told me so."

Amused, Booth asks, "how did he tell you so, monkey? He can't talk."

She gestures between both of their craniums to demonstrate a link between them. "I just know."

Booth simply laughs. "Ready to go get breakfast?"

"YEAH!" 

"You seem very excited this morning, Christine," Brennan comments, lifting Hank out of the crib.

"She's always excited about waffles," he ruffles her hair, "aren't you, monkey? You take after your dad."

"Mmmm. Waffles!"

"You two get started on breakfast then, while mama changes Hank," Brennan says, amusement glittering in her blue-grey eyes.

Booth nods and they're about to leave when they hear the sounds of "mama" erupt from their son's mouth.

"Yes! Mama! That's right, sweetie! You said Mama!" Brennan cries, snuggling Hank into her chest.

Booth spins and wraps his arms around both of them, pressing a kiss to his wife's temple. "He said Mama!"

Moisture is welling in Brennan's eyes and she doesn't even fight the tears that eventually leak out, rolling down her cheeks and into Hank's light, fluffy hair. She can't believe he's just said his first word, and it was _mama_ of all things.

"Our son's a genius, Bones!"

" _All_ of our children are geniuses, Booth," she corrects him with a warm smile at Christine. "They take after their mom."

He raises his eyebrows. "Oh, really?"

"Yes. I am very intelligent."

"I know you are," he chuckles, tightening his hold on her. "Our children are very lucky to have inherited that big, brilliant and beautiful brain of yours."

"You have your advantages too, Booth," she says knowingly as she walks to Hank's changing table and gently lays him out.

"I do?"

"Yes. Our children have clearly developed your good looks."

He smirks, his chest puffing out. "You think?"

"Definitely."

"You're gorgeous too though, Bones," he compliments, and she really is. Even as she's changing Hank's dirty diaper, her beauty blows him away. She's still in her burgundy flannel pyjamas, her hair dishevelled from sleep and her skin free of the natural, animal-friendly make-up she usually wears. None of that matters to Booth though. Whether she's like this or she's dressed to the nines for a fundraising event at the Jeffersonian, she's the most beautiful person he's ever seen. He's said it before and he'll say it again; he is _so_ lucky to have her as his wife and the mother of his children.

She beams at him. "Thanks, Booth. I love you too. You want to take our little guy while I get ready for work?"

"Yeah, sure, Bones. Bring him here."

Their son now freshly diapered, Brennan hands him over to his dad, both parents feeling immensely proud of their genius one year old.

 **I love B &B family moments, can you tell? Lol**

 **Review? :)**


	14. A Day To Remember

**Just random fluff about B &B's wedding reception that's sat nearly completed in my WIPs folder for a couple of months. Enjoy!**

Tucking her head into the crook of his neck, a feeling of contentment washes over her. "I'm so happy," she murmurs into his tuxedo jacket, a soft smile slipping onto her face as they slow dance, surrounded by their family and friends.

"Me too, Bones," he whispers in response, dropping a kiss to her hair. "This day has been so much better than I could have ever imagined."

"It really has." Lifting her head, she gazes into his eyes. Taking the time to really admire his face, she notes his sparkling eyes, wide smile and adorable dimples, his happiness and his love for her emanating from every pore. She stretches upwards to kiss him and he responds enthusiastically, to say the least. "My husband" – joy rushes through her as she uses the word for the first time – "is very attractive."

His smile widens unbelievably so. "Yeah?"

"Yes. _Very_ attractive _."_

"I'm glad you think so," he says, tugging her ever closer. "My wife is pretty attractive herself."

Her heart hops. "I love that word."

"Which one?"

"Wife."

"Me, too," he responds, and it's the truth. They've both been waiting so long for this moment – for them to be married – and now it's finally here, now they can _finally_ call each other husband and wife, it just feels… surreal. And amazing. And spectacular.

It had been a great wedding, Brennan thinks, luxuriating in the feeling of being held in her husband's arms as he leads her around the makeshift dance floor. It wasn't what they'd planned, _sure_ , but Angela had really done a wonderful job. Brennan had always admired the Jeffersonian gardens, the colours, the light, the quiet – a far cry from the Medico-Legal lab, filled with corpses and murder – but she'd never considered the possibility of holding a wedding there. Of course, for a long time she'd disregarded the entire concept of marriage, thinking it was meaningless and just a piece of paper and something she would never, ever do. But even once she'd fallen in love with Booth and fallen in love with the idea of being his wife, the gardens had never even crossed her radar. For Booth, religion is extremely important; they'd gone to his church immediately to book their ceremony, without looking at any other venues. And although she hates the fact that Booth's church had burnt down (whether he was the cause of that or not, it was still a point of contention between him and his new father-in-law) she thinks it was possibly for the better. The gardens were truly _superb._ The flowers at the edges of aisle, the grand floral archway above where she and Booth had exchanged their vows, the beautiful architecture of the Jeffersonian Institute in the background. Considering the fact Angela only had a day to plan the wedding, the ceremony had been so much more than what Booth and Brennan could have ever pulled off. She reminds herself to thank her best friend once again later on. But for now, she doesn't want to leave her husband's muscular arms.

"You've gone quiet there, Bones," he says, his hand tracing circles on her back. "Everything OK?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just thinking."

"About what?"

"This. Us. Our wedding." She smiles up at him. "I'm so pleased I changed my mind about marriage."

He smiles adoringly back at her. "I am, too."

As the song that was playing ends and a new one begins, Booth hums to the tune playing.

She laughs, delight dancing in her eyes, as his hum morphs into a gentle croon. He still cannot carry a tune to save his life, but she loves him anyway.

"Wanna go find our baby girl?" He asks softly mid-way through the song, tired of singing and missing Christine.

"Definitely," she grins, taking his hand as they go about the search for their beautiful blonde-haired toddler. They'd barely seen her since she'd woken them up early that morning; everything had been such a whirlwind and she'd been cranky before the ceremony begun, so Max had adopted babysitting duty. Brennan spies the two of them in the corner of the hall they'd rented and drags Booth in their direction.

Christine's eyes light up when she sees her parents, doing funny things to Brennan's heart. She absolutely adores her little girl, more than she ever thought possible, and it fills her with such glee that her daughter feels the exact same way. She doesn't know whether it's the three months they spent mostly alone together when Brennan had been on the run, but the two of them are bordering on obsessed with each other and Sweets insists they both have separation anxiety. The psychologist always seems to imply that it's a bad thing, but Brennan vehemently disagrees. Christine is _precious_ , who would want to be separated from such an amazing little girl?

 _Exactly._

"Mommy!" She exclaims as Brennan lifts her from Max's arms into her own. As Christine snuggles into her chest, Brennan peppers kisses all over her face.

"I've missed you so much, sweetheart."

Kiss.

"I've missed you more," comes Christine's high-pitched response.

Another kiss.

"I love your dress, beautiful," Booth says, chuckling at the sweet smile that passes over his daughter's face. "Are you feeling better now?"

She nods. "Granpa Max helped."

"Did he? I'll have to buy him some Scotch in thanks, then."

"It was my pleasure, son," Max asserts, clapping him on the shoulder with an open hand. Brennan is suddenly transported back to years earlier, back before she and Booth had gotten together, before Hannah, before the whole Gormagon fiasco. Zack had taught her that an open-handed clap to the shoulder meant the other person had respect for you. Brennan likes the fact that her father respects her husband, despite their somewhat topsy-turvy past. They get along really well now and it means the world to her that Max thinks of Booth as his son. It's like they're officially a family, a real, honest-to-goodness family, something she'd been deprived of since the age of fifteen.

"Hey dad!" Parker shouts as he joins the four of them, his bow tie now crooked and his shirt un-tucked. "Having fun?"

"Yeah," he murmurs over the hubbub of music and chatter, his eyes catching his new wife's, "I am. You?"

"Best. Wedding. Ever."

"I'm glad you think so." Brennan ruffles his hair as she tugs him into her side. "I'm feeling quite hungry. Would you like some food, too, Parker?"

" _Duh_!"

Booth chuckles. "Like father, like son, huh? Let's go get some pigs in blankets, Bones!"

"God's perfect food, right?"

He pauses, surprised she'd remembered his words from the crime scene where they'd been dangling from the cliff edge slightly too long for comfort. He knows his partner has an excellent memory – she tells him so all the time – but it always fills him with joy when she remembers some of the random, nonsensical things he comes out with. His lips twitch into a smile, his hand leaving his daughter's back to reach out for his bride, needing to touch her. They entwine their fingers together, both overwhelmed with happiness as they make their way towards the buffet stand.

Max watches the four of them go, pride etched into his face. From where his daughter was when he first reunited with her, to where she is now – happily married with two beautiful children – he couldn't possibly be more delighted for her. She's finally found her happy ending and he only wishes her mother could be here for this, to see how their baby girl has grown into an accomplished woman and with a daughter herself.

 _You'd have loved this wedding_ , he says to her as if his late wife can hear him. _You'd love Booth, plus, you both have the same taste in food. I'll never understand why you both love pigs in blankets so much._

Shaking his head in quiet amusement, he follow his daughter's family towards the selection of delicious-looking food the hotel has laid out and picks up his plate, ready to indulge. He can't help but admire Booth and Brennan as they make their way along the length of the buffet, both of them so clearly happy and very much in love. His daughter throws her head back in laughter as Booth stuffs a reasonably-sized slice of pie in his mouth, his cheeks puffing out like a hamster's. Max will forever be grateful for the smile Booth puts on his daughter's face. _You'd have really loved him, too, Ruthie._

 **I just found out this morning that I got into my first choice university so I feel like pretty much the happiest person in the world right now. If you leave a review, you'll make my day even better than it already is. :)**


	15. B&B Watch B99

**First of all, thank you SO MUCH for passing 100 reviews. I'm really proud of this story and I'm glad you're all enjoying it. Second of all, thank you for your congratulations about me getting into uni – I really appreciate it. :)**

 **Finally, this is really subtle promo (not!) for my other favourite TV show – Brooklyn Nine Nine – that's coming back Sept. 20** **th** **that you should definitely go watch because it's awesome and** ** _hilarious_** **and awesome. Trust me. Watch it. Your life will be made 10,000 times better.**

Her laptop perched on her knee, her back resting against the headboard of their bed and her fingers poised above her keyboard, Brennan is ready to begin her latest novel, however, despite her extensive outline, the words just won't seem to flow out of her. Normally, she finds this process comes quite naturally; writing the words is not a problem, it's the editing that she struggles with. When everything about her novel is perfect, how is she supposed to chop and change such large chunks of it?

After half an hour of staring blankly at the empty Microsoft Word document, the stark white page teasing and taunting her, she comes to the conclusion that's she's too distracted and _that's_ the reason why words are failing her all of a sudden.

Typically, she prefers to write in silence. It allows her to focus fully on the story unravelling and the characters within it. Therefore she tends to write when her family aren't home, but this week has been chaotic with a double homicide, Christine's parent-teacher conference and Hank coming down with a nasty cold. As a result, this is the first opportunity she's had to get started on her book and, in order to keep on track with her self-imposed deadlines and weekly word count targets, she has no choice but to write, despite the fact that her husband is in the other room.

Her husband is, as usual, the source of her distraction.

He's watching some TV show on their plasma screen, the sound blasting through the speakers, accompanied by his loud barks of laughter every few seconds when something amusing occurs.

Groaning in frustration, she places her laptop to the side of her and climbs off their bed. Marching into the living room, determination etched into her stern expression, she aims to step in front of him and force him to lower the volume. Writing intricate forensic details into a crime thriller demands an intense level of concentration she cannot currently summon because of him and his damn television.

She stops, standing between her husband the screen, her hand on her hip, her blue-grey eyes shooting daggers at him. "Booth, I need quiet. It's immensely important that I focus."

"I'm sorry, Bones," he says, chuckling as the squad – invited to a fancy house party by their captain and his husband – have all brought with them identical bottles of the cheapest wine on the market, craning his neck so he can still see the on-screen action. "I can't help laughing. This show is too funny!"

She clicks her tongue, pausing it, while simultaneously ignoring Booth's indignant outcry. "You know this is the first chance I've had to write all week and _you know_ I can only do that when the house is silent."

"There's an easy solution to that, Bones. Watch the show with me now, write later."

"Booth, no-."

"Come on! Maybe it will inspire you."

"How could one of your ridiculous TV shows possibly inspire me?" She questions, her tone incredulous. She writes extremely accurate scientific novels, not drivel about superheroes in skin-tight costumes.

"It's a crime show."

"It _is_?"

He registers the surprise in her voice and smiles. "It's about an NYPD precinct in Brooklyn. They have a new captain brought in to improve the way they work – Ray Holt – who's the NYPD's first openly gay captain and he's _hilarious_. Watch it with me."

She hesitates, uncertain. She really does need to begin writing her next novel before her agent starts breathing down her neck and she normally doesn't understand the humour in the shows her husband tells her are hilarious anyway. However, he's giving her his ever-enticing charm smile and she can't refuse. "Just one episode," she insists.

"That's all it takes to get hooked, Bones." He grabs her hands and tugs her onto the sofa, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. She rests a hand on his upper thigh as she snuggles into his side, breathing in his delightful and manly scent. She'd watch any TV show he wanted if it meant she could stay in this position forever, she thinks secretly, loving the feeling of sitting with him like this. It will never get old.

He restarts the episode and, as they settle in to watch the sitcom, Brennan finds herself enjoying it more than she expected she would.

Not only is it filled to the brim with jokes that even she understands (and loves), the cast is so diverse, it's wonderful to watch. The captain is an openly gay black man who is stoic almost to the point of being robotic, completely going against the stereotypical camp representation of most gay characters on television. The precinct's sergeant is another black man by the name of Terry Jeffords whose musculature is even more impressive than Booth's and yet, like her husband, he's a huge softie who adores his family above all else (except maybe his mango yoghurt). There are two Latina detectives in the nine-nine – Amy and Rosa – who have polar opposite personalities but are both funny and badass in equal measure. It's a pleasant surprise to see a show embrace diversity as much – and as casually – as Brooklyn does and, unlike many comedies, it doesn't rely on offensive jokes to provide humour.

It's a little goofy, but it's lovable and highly entertaining to watch and when the episode ends, Brennan finds herself forgetting all about Kathy and Andy's latest adventures and agreeing to watch the next episode and then the one after that.

Booth is beaming from ear-to-ear because they finally have a TV show they both love and can watch together once the kids go to sleep and relinquish control of the remote. He glances from the screen – a scene with the dorky, yet amazing detective-slash-protagonist, Jake, and the more organised, binder-loving Amy – to his entranced wife. His lips twitch up in a tender smile. "Do they remind you of us?"

She tears her eyes away from the TV. "What?"

"Jake and Amy. Peralta and Santiago. Do they remind you of us?"

"Well they're partners who solve crimes together, but," she crinkles her nose in confusion, "they work for the NYPD, us the FBI, I'm significantly more intelligent and science-minded than Santiago and I'm not a police officer. Plus, they're fictional, so I don't really understand your comparison."

"I'm not talking that literally, Bones. What I mean is that they're complete opposites and bicker all the time, yet somehow their partnership works. Like us. And they're totally into each other."

Her eyes widen, wondering how she missed that particular plot point. "They are?"

"Yeah, obviously. Look at the way they smile at each other and sneak adoring glances when the other one's not looking. They're totally in love."

"You're jumping to that conclusion based on our own experience?"

"I am," he affirms. "They're cute though, right?"

Brennan nods her agreement. "The characters do seem to have a natural chemistry like you and I. Although I think we make a better couple than they do, Booth. We're married with kids while they haven't even admitted they like each other yet."

"You've got a point there, Bones," he says pressing an errant kiss to her hair. "Although sometimes all the best relationships take a long time to develop."

"Like us."

He grins broadly at her words. "Like us."

(They end up finishing the first season that night, snuggling up together beneath the blanket, both of them throwing their heads back with laughter every time something funny happens, which, with this show, is very often.)

(Brennan doesn't get around to starting her novel, but really, she doesn't care. She'd rather binge-watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine with her husband. Besides, they desperately need to find out if Peralta and Santiago ever get together _romantic-stylez_.)

 **If you love Booth and Brennan, you'll absolutely** ** _adore_** **Jake and Amy. They are so frickin' precious and Melissa Fumero (Amy) might be one of the most beautiful people I've ever seen ever (tied with Em, of course).**

 **Anyhoops, this show is the best and is ridiculously underrated so you need to go watch it – right now! Leave a review first though if you enjoyed this chapter. :)**


	16. Brennan's Birthday

**Set in season 7, pre-Christine.**

Securing the wrapping paper with a final piece of tape, Angela sits back in her seat, satisfied with the neatness of the wrapping job and the present inside. She checks her phone and realises that Brennan should be in her office by now, so she pops the final present inside the large decorative gift bag and hurries towards the corner of the Medico-Legal lab where her best friend's office is located. Thanks to the glass walls, she can confirm that the anthropologist is inside, but as Angela gets closer, she notices that Brennan's chin is resting glumly in her hands and her back is hunched over. Immediately worried, Angela rushes over to Brennan's desk, clearly startling the birthday girl when she drops the bag full of goodies to the hardwood surface.

"Angela! What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to celebrate your big day, of course!" She exclaims excitedly. "Happy birthday, sweetie!"

"Thank you, Ange," she murmurs unenthusiastically, a grim look on her face.

Oh, that is _unacceptable_.

"All right, what's the matter?"

Brennan's pupils dilate as Angela plonks herself in the chair on the other side of her desk. "What do you mean?"

"It's your _birthday_ , sweetie. You're supposed to be happy. Instead you look like somebody has just murdered your iguana. What's going on?"

"Nothing is go-."

"Stop right there. I'm your best friend, Brennan. I can tell when something is bothering you. Spit it out."

Her mouth opens and closes like a goldfish's as she internally debates whether or not to speak. Eventually, she realises Angela's right; they _are_ best friends and they _do_ tell each other everything. Letting out a small sigh, she says, "I think Booth has forgotten my birthday."

Angela's eyes bug in surprise. She'd always thought Booth was a very romantic man who seemed to place a great deal of importance upon celebrating birthdays and anniversaries with his significant others. Since he and Brennan had finally screwed their heads on right and realised they were meant to be together – and especially since she is pregnant with their child – Angela had figured the FBI agent would go all out. But to forget all about her birthday? That just seems completely out of character for Booth.

"Are you sure?"

Brennan shoots her look that screams " _duh!_ "

"Right. Of course. You wouldn't have said it if you weren't sure. I just can't believe he wouldn't remember…"

"Me either," the anthropologist agrees sadly. "I thought it was merely pregnancy hormones making me emotional and over-sensitive-."

"Don't blame yourself for this," Angela insists. "Has he really done nothing? No card, no present, no mention of your special day?"

"Nothing," Brennan replies, chewing on her lower lip.

"Well, _I_ remembered, so chin up and open the presents from the superb best friend you're so lucky to have."

Brennan lets out a tearful chuckle and wipes at her damp under-eyes with her fingertips. She tugs the gift bag over to her and pulls out the first of a number of presents. Tucking her fingers under the seams in the paper, she opens up the rectangular box-shaped item to reveal a beautiful set of earrings and a matching necklace. She fingers the emerald stone at the end of the chain, smiling up at her best friend in the whole world. "They're beautiful, Ange."

"There's more," she says, practically bouncing on the chair. She always gets such a buzz watching people's reactions to stuff she buys them. With her father, he always looks really proud of her, with Hodgins, she's guaranteed sex, and with Brennan there's this pure, almost child-like glint she gets in her eyes when she's shown how loved she truly is after being alone for so many years.

Her best friend delves into the bag for a second time. This time the parcel is much softer and evidently an item of clothing. Curious, Brennan tears open the paper and finds a tiny white onesie with the words "Mommy's girl" emblazoned on the front.

"She's going to have the best mom in the world, so why wouldn't she be a total mommy's girl?" Angela explains, laughing softly as Brennan rises to her feet and hugs her. "You're still not finished yet."

"I know, but I love you and needed a hug. Is that wrong?"

"Absolutely not. I love you too, Brennan." Angela rubs her hand over her best friend's back for their minute long embrace before she encourages her to get back to unwrapping.

She opens a couple more babies clothes, a photo frame with a picture of the two of them inside, a booking for a spa day and last but not least, another photo-framed shaped box.

Tossing the paper to the floor, Brennan turns over the frame in her hands. She gasps at the image before her. It's a painting of Brennan and her mother stood side-by-side, matching smiles on their faces. Brennan tears up again (which she will insist is purely down to the hormones secreted due to pregnancy, but Angela knows better) at how perfectly the artist has captured her mother. It's like a photograph it's so realistic. Her finger tracing Angela's piece of art, she eventually notices the blank space. Questioning eyes meet Angela's delighted ones.

"It's so I can add your daughter to it when we finally get to meet her. Then it will show three generations of beautiful Brennan women."

"Oh, Ange," she murmurs, embracing her again. "I love it and I love you."

Angela returns the sentiment, despite the fact that she's completely distracted, her brain too busy running through ways that Booth can fix Brennan's birthday and make it up to her. She knows her best friend will never be fully happy until the situation with her partner (both professionally and now personally) is resolved. So that's what Angela determines to do.

The elevator dings it's arrival on the fourth floor and she marches out before the doors are even properly open, seething with anger. She can't believe this. She can't believe _him_. "You and I are gonna need to talk about this, Seeley Booth…" She mutters darkly. "I will not have my best friend's birthday ruined because of you."

She blisters past the agents in the bullpen and into his office, not noticing (or caring about) the man in military uniform seated opposite her target before she launches her attack. "You're a jackass, you know that?"

Both pairs of eyes dart to her in shock, neither of them knowing what or who the hell she's talking about.

"Angela, what are you doing?"

"How could you forget her birthday, Booth? I swear if we weren't surrounded by federal agents right now…"

"I think that's my cue to leave," the uniformed officer says awkwardly, rising to a standing position. He shakes Booth's hand. "I'll be in touch."

"Great. Thank you," Booth calls lamely after him as he leaves the office without a second look in the agent's direction. "And thank _you_ for _that_."

Angela rolls her eyes at the sarcastic tone to his words. "Don't you dare. I'm so pissed off at you right now, Seeley Booth."

"I haven't done anything wr-."

"Exactly. You haven't done anything. Brennan's sitting in her office all depressed because she thinks you don't love her anymore."

"Angela-."

"Don't _Angela_ me," she barrels onwards, levelling him with a glacial stare. "She's the woman you supposedly love and the mother of your unborn child and you treat her like _this_? I am disgusted with you!"

"ANGELA!" He shouts, waving his hands in front of her. "Slow down. Take a breath."

"How can I take a breath when you're so inconsid-."

"Shhh. No more talking. My turn. I'm not doing nothing."

She double takes. " _What_?"

"Of course I haven't forgotten her birthday, Ange. I _love_ her. I'm just surprising her later."

"You are?"

"Yes," he stresses. "How could you think that I wouldn't celebrate Bones' birthday?"

Guilt pounds through her chest. Perhaps she had overreacted. She'd just seen Brennan so upset and saw red. Realising her mistake, she quickly apologises. "I know you love her and the baby. I'm sorry I suggested otherwise."

"That's OK, Angela. All is forgiven."

"That easily?" Surprise is written all over her expression.

"That easily," he replies, grinning. "Now are we done here? I gotta go home and set up the surprise."

"One question. Before you go."

"Shoot." He's halfway out his office, but stops in the doorway to hear what she has to say regardless.

"Why did you decide not to make a fuss all day? I think Brennan saw how you were with Hannah and expected you to make a fuss."

Shrugging, he says, "I wanted to do something more intimate and personal, I guess. Bones and I are more than just cheesy greeting cards and crappy, overdone presents; I wanted to give her the special treatment she deserves. Plus, she's eight months pregnant. She's constantly exhausted at this point so I figured spending the evening in would be much nicer for her."

"You really are a romantic, aren't you?" She comments, amazing by how much consideration he's put into making Brennan's day great.

He smiles bashfully. "I gotta go."

The next morning, Angela is back in her office staring at the large computer screen in front of her. She's supposed to be performing a facial reconstruction, but her eyes are glazed over, her thoughts consumed with how the rest of Brennan's birthday went and, most importantly, whether her best friend is still upset or not.

She has no concept of how much time whizzes past her. All she knows is that Brennan arrives in the artist's office seconds, minutes or maybe even hours later, wearing the emerald jewellery set from Angela that compliments her skin tone perfectly. The second thing Angela notices is that the glum expression has been replaced by the brightest, most beautiful smile and relief floods through her. She hadn't really wanted to kill Booth, but if he had failed to rectify his mistake, she would've had no choice.

"I take it he remembered," Angela says with a grin.

"He definitely did. I retract my erroneous statement from yesterday. I should have had more faith in my partner. He was incredibly thoughtful."

"Yeah? I'm glad." Unable to wait any longer, she eagerly asks what his present was.

"I came home to mac 'n' cheese that he'd made himself. It was reminiscent of a sort-of-date we'd had a long time ago and it was perfect," she recounts dreamily, fiddling with the green pendant. "We had coconut ice cream after dinner too because he knows I've been craving it lately."

"That sounds wonderful, Brennan." And it really does. Angela is so overwhelmingly happy for her best friend. Despite the fact that she'd always maintained love was just a chemical process and that she found monogamy unnatural, Angela knew deep down that the anthropologist worried she'd be alone forever. But now she's in such a loving relationship with a man who treats her to a meaningful home-cooked meal on her birthday, that fear of isolation has disappeared and Brennan is finally allowing herself to have the happiness and the family she deserves.

"It gets better." Her eyes twinkling, she says, "After dessert he ran a bubble bath with scented candles…"

Angela smirks at the distracted air that washes over Brennan, clearly thinking about what happened between the partners in the tub. "You two really love bath time, don't you?"

"Yes, we do. I find it often leads to sex, which both Booth and I enjoy very much," Brennan responds matter-of-factly, making Angela chuckle.

"I'm sure you do, sweetie." She shakes her head, her smile filled with amusement. "So you had a good birthday in the end?"

"Yes, thank you. Booth is an excellent lover. And thank you, by the way. He told me that you paid him a visit at the FBI. I appreciate you protecting me, even if it is completely unnecessary."

Angela shrugs her off. "You're my best friend, Brennan, and I just wanted to make sure your birthday was the best it could possibly be."

"And that's why I love you," Brennan says sweetly, wrapping her arms around Angela and hugging her as tightly as she can with the large bump between them. She buries her face in the artist's shoulder, both of them wearing soft, happy smiles.

 **Review? :)**


	17. Max's Discovery

**Although I loved how B &B got together on the show, I would have ****_also_** **loved it if we got to see everybody's reactions to them getting together/the pregnancy. Here's my interpretation of Max's Discovery. :)**

 **This was really spontaneous and only finished like 10 mins ago so if there are any errors/typos that have slipped through the cracks, I'm really sorry. Just wanted to get it posted ASAP because I've got a busy week ahead.**

 **Anyhoops, long A/N over. On with the next instalment of this fic!**

As I step through the automatic doors to my local grocery store, the glass sliding apart to welcome me inside, I retrieve the crumpled shopping list I'd stuffed in my pocket as I left my apartment ten minutes ago. I consult the paper torn out from a notebook Hayley and Emma had bought me for my last birthday, having to squint to decipher my terrible penmanship.

 _Coffee._

 _Today's newspaper._

 _Chocolate._

 _Shampoo._

 _Shower gel._

 _Toilet paper._

 _Washing powder._

 _Something to eat for tonight's dinner._

 _Bread._

 _Milk._

I decide to start with fruit and vegetables, considering they're located in the aisle closest to the entrance. I pick up some lettuce and tomatoes and some peppers… Dr Sarah says I need to eat much healthier so I suppose having salad for tonight's dinner would quell her and the kids' concerns about my health. I pick up a few more items, then head towards the dairy section for the skimmed milk my doctor insists I now buy. I choose my favourite brand, pop it in my basket, then stop in my tracks as something captures my attention.

Or, should I say, some _one_ captures my attention.

A tall, slender woman dressed in a deep purple trench coat and skinny jeans tucked into knee-high boots. Her dark hair is curled slightly and, as she pauses and turns to take something off a shelf, her face comes into view. A very familiar face I happen to know quite well. It belongs to my beautiful, intelligent daughter. My Tempe.

I was unaware that she shopped here, considering the distance from her apartment and the fact there's a store down the street from her. Whatever. I don't care _why_ she's here, I just care that she is. Her schedule has been chaotic since I last saw her during the investigation of Jeff Fowler's murder. That was over a month ago. Every time I call her to suggest a date and time that we can meet, she blows me off and hangs up the phone as quick as she can. I've just assumed every murderer in Washington has decided to strike in the last month and thought nothing else of it. I've missed her so much though. It's so good to see her.

I rush forward and, once I'm certain she'll be able to hear me amid the hubbub of busy shoppers, screams of petulant children and intercom announcements, I call her name.

Startled, she turns to face me, her eyes widening in surprise. " _Dad?_ What are you doing here?"

I gesture to the red basket hanging from my forearm. "My cupboards were empty."

"Ah. Same here," she replies with a polite smile. "Well, I'd better be going."

That's it? We haven't seen each other in over a month and _that's it_?

"What's the rush, Tempe? Surely you can spare a couple of minutes for your old man."

"I'm afraid not. I have skeletons from a mass grave to identify," she says, averting her gaze.

My interest is piqued.

She's lying to me. She can never look me in the eyes when she's lying to me; hasn't been able to since she was a kid.

"Aren't you even gonna ask me how I am? If I'm feeling better after my injury?" I ask, feeling a little hurt. I can't believe my own daughter is lying to me.

She seems momentarily perplexed. "Your injury?"

"I had an embarrassing physical event occur… I was confined to a wheelchair… remember?"

Her face lights up in sudden recognition. "Yes! Your injury. Sorry, dad. You're walking, so that clearly means your condition has improved, correct?"

"Yeah, it has but-."

"Great," she interrupts me swiftly. "Well, like I said, I've got to go now. Bye, dad! See you soon."

She plants a chaste kiss on my cheek and then she's hurrying away from me at a reasonable pace.

I furrow my brow. _What is going on with her?_

Determined to discover the cause of her recent absence and suspicious behaviour just now, I set off after her, keeping just enough distance so that I go unnoticed, but close enough to be able to keep a watchful eye on her. I receive a couple of weird looks from other shoppers as I loiter beside the fish counter and hide behind a display board. I ignore them though and focus on my little girl. Something is definitely going on with her that she's not telling me about. And I won't rest until I find out what it is.

"Perhaps she's sick," I murmur to myself, worry creeping up inside me. I hope it's not that. I can't lose her again. I really can't. Her recent sabbatical in the Maluku Islands had been hard enough to deal with; I can't lose her for good. Just as I'm racking my brain for any recognisable symptoms, another familiar figure strolls past me.

Giant. Muscular. Dark hair. Flyers jersey.

 _Booth!_

What's he doing here?

Are they here _together_?

No. Why would the two crime-fighting partners be doing their grocery shopping together on a Sunday morning?

Unless…

No. No way. Tempe would tell me if they were a couple. Wouldn't she?

However, they _had_ been acting awfully polite towards each other the last time he saw them. Tempe _had_ seemed all too happy to be going undercover as Booth's girlfriend. _And_ the FBI agent obviously enjoyed being affectionate with the woman who was _supposedly_ "just his partner".

I watch, entranced, as Booth approaches Tempe and drops something in the gradually filling shopping cart that she's been pushing around. Then, one hand on the cart, he places his other hand low on Tempe's back. It's a completely casual movement, like he does it all the time without even thinking about it.

Oh. My. _God_.

 _My little girl is dating Booth!_

They begin to walk away together and I stealthily follow them, needing more information. Is this thing serious? How long have they been a couple? Have they had sex yet?

They pause to pick up some pasta and I pretend to peruse a shelf full of… actually, I don't even know what I'm looking at. I'm concentrating solely on Booth and Tempe, shock still written all over my face. I can't believe they're a real couple. I never thought this day would come. They've been dancing around the topic for years now and they'd seemingly missed every chance the universe handed them. _I can't believe it_.

"No, Booth," Brennan protests, her voice suddenly so loud I'm afraid she's standing right next to me. Risking a glance at them, I see the partners still stood in front of the fresh pasta section, Booth holding a packet of Tagliatelle out of her reach and Tempe trying to grab for it to no avail. Her boyfriend has the height advantage. "I want _Penne_ , Booth."

"Well I want Tagliatelle," Booth responds hotly and I have to clap my hand over my mouth to stop the laughter threatening to escape. Are they seriously bickering over what type of pasta they should buy?

"Penne is clearly the superior option."

"Are you crazy, Bones? Tagliatelle is the best!"

"We only have room in the fridge for one," she says, the volume lowering as she seeks to persuade Booth to see her point of view. I have to strain to hear the rest of the conversation.

"Yeah, so we should pick my choice."

She rises up on her toes, whispers something in his ear and they both smirk as she pulls away.

Booth returns the packet of his preferred pasta to the shelf and Tempe gleefully places the Penne in the cart. Then, unaware of the fact I'm watching them, she surges upwards and presses her lips to Booth's. My cheeks flush red and I quickly turn away. I don't need to see _that_.

For the next ten minutes, I collect the rest of the items on my shopping list, steadfastly keeping my head down. I race around the store and am about to head to the checkouts when I pass the aisle filled with diapers and baby food and the tiniest items of clothing. I freeze, paralysed to the spot as, amongst all the baby paraphernalia, stands my daughter and her partner, both professionally and now personally.

My jaw is slack, my pupils dilated and my heart pumping.

I frantically try to conjure up an alternative explanation as to why they'd be there, like perhaps they're buying something for Angela and Hodgins' newborn son, but Booth is admiring a pink onesie, not blue.

They're _pregnant_. They have to be.

I can hear the irritation of the shoppers around me as they have to squeeze past me, but I don't move. I can't move. I can't take my eyes off Tempe and Booth as they shop for baby supplies.

This is _unbelievable_.

When I got out of bed this morning and decided I needed to come to the store, I could have never anticipated _this_. Finding out that I'm going to be a grandfather. A broad grin slowly forms on my face. _A grandfather_. My baby girl is having a baby of her own, a child that will be half her, half Booth.

Scrutinising her slight frame, I can see no evidence of a protruding baby bump, but it could be concealed beneath her trench coat. Either that, or it's still very early on in the pregnancy and she's not showing yet.

As I reluctantly walk away – not wanting them to catch me staring – I bury the hurt that tries to seep to the surface. I arrive at the checkout and begin unloading my basket of items. Coffee. Today's newspaper. Chocolate.

I'm sure they're not intentionally hiding their relationship from me. I'm sure they're just caught up in the whirlwind nature of it all and they'll tell me when they're ready.

Yes, that's it.

I pay for my shopping and, as I'm exiting the store, my cell beeps with an incoming text. I fish it out of my pocket and read the message, smiling tenderly.

 **Hi, dad. Sorry I was acting weird earlier, I just have a lot going on. Nothing to do with work though. You should come over to my apartment later. 8.00. Don't eat – I'm making pasta. Penne, your favourite. I have some Big News, but don't worry, everything is good. I'm very happy. See you soon. :)**

I knew she wouldn't hide things from me for long.

Now I just have to get home and work on my acting abilities – gotta look surprised when she breaks the news.

 **Review? I'd love you forever :)**


	18. Angela's Discovery

**A Guest reviewer said they hoped I'd continue with the characters finding out about B &B. You ask, you receive. Here's Angela's chapter. :)**

My eyes are bleary and half-lidded as I stare at my laptop screen, my chin resting in my hand. I'm not too sure what I'm even looking at. The victim's phone records, I think, but I'm not really reading them. It's all Michael Vincent's fault.

I love my baby boy, obviously, he's so precious and beautiful and his smile is the cutest thing I've ever seen in my whole life. I've always wanted a family - and a big one at that - but I didn't anticipate that it would be _this_ exhausting.

Michael wants feeding every couple of hours and that includes the wee hours of the night. Since he's still dependent upon breastfeeding, Hodgins can't really help and I'm the one who keeps having to wake up in the middle of the night when the kid starts crying. My husband _tries_ to stay awake to accompany me, but he always sleeps right through Michael's cries. (I have no idea _how_. Our kid sure has some lungs on him.)

Anyway, long story short, I'm sleep-deprived, missing my son (who's in the Jeffersonian daycare right now) and not at all interested in the daily hour long calls the 30 year old male victim had with his mother.

Letting my eyelids slip shut, I can feel myself drifting off to sleep, surrendering to the tiredness that's lingering over every muscle in my body like a dark cloud.

" _Angela_?"

My eyes re-open sharply, darting to the door where Brennan is standing, watching me with a concerned expression on her face.

"Sweetie? What are you doing here?"

"I work at the Jeffersonian," she replies, furrowing her brow. "You also work here. We tend to consult on the murder cases. You provide facial reconstructions and reenact murder scenarios based off my evidence, _remember_?"

I rub at my eyes, forcing myself to focus on her words that, at the moment, sound like a garbled mess. "Huh?"

She's walking towards me now. "Did you hear what I said?"

"No. Sorry, Sweetie. Michael kept me awake all last night. It's like my milk is laced with speed or something."

"That's unlikely to be the case, unless you've been taking amphetamines," she says, taking the seat opposite me and adopting a disapproving stare. "Although that would be extremely inappropriate for a new mother. You haven't been taking amphetamines, have you? Because the Jeffersonian would have to terminate your contract with immediate effect."

I shake my head _no_. Of course I haven't. "It was a joke, sweetie. I was trying to convey how little sleep I'm getting right now because Michael Vincent is permanently hungry."

"Perhaps you should pump before you go to bed and then Hodgins can be on feeding duty," she suggests, much to my surprise because (a) that's a damn good idea, why didn't I think of it? and (b) _how would Brennan know what to do in this scenario?_ She's never had children or even contemplated the idea of having children.

Unless...

No. That's insane. Brennan would tell me. She would tell me. She tells me everything - I'm her best friend.

Deciding that instead of speculating, I could just ask her, since she's sat right in front of me, I do just that: " _how do you know about pumping_?"

Her face freezes, faltering. I can practically see steam emanating from her ears, her brain working harder than ever to conjure up a plausible excuse as to why she'd know that information. She obviously comes up blank and tries to distract me from the topic at hand. "Have you found anything in the victim's phone records?"

I narrow my eyes suspiciously. _Something is going on with her._ Since she's keeping a secret from me, I'm going to keep a secret from her. "No, but I've only just starting looking." Lie. I've been staring dumbly at the same screen for over an hour. "Perhaps you'd find more information by reexamining the bones." A sort of lie. Brennan always learns something new every time she analyses a set of remains, so it would probably be helpful for the case, however, call and text logs can be equally useful for discovering who victims are communicating/meeting up with before their death. Well it will be useful when I can eventually build up enough energy to read it.

"Maybe later. I have an appointment in twenty minutes so I should be getting off."

"An appointment?" I repeat, my suspicions rising once more. "With who?"

"Oh... um... the university..."

"That was very unconvincing, sweetie," I point out bluntly. "Which university?"

"American?" The pitch of her voice rises at the end of the word, like _she's_ asking _me_ , instead of the other way around.

Something is _definitely_ going on.

"Oh right. Well, have fun!" I plaster a false smile on my face and wave goodbye as she leaves my office, my face falling the second she's gone.

 _What kind of appointment could it be?_

 _A OBGYN one_ , says the nagging thought, forcing it's way to the forefront of my mind.

No. _No_. She'd tell me if she were pregnant.

At least... I _think_ she would.

My eyes flick back to my laptop screen, to the victim's phone records. I could just-.

 _No_. That's such a major invasion of my best friend's privacy I can't even handle it. Not to mention, probably illegal. I'm not investigating her murder, so I shouldn't be snooping.

But... I already have the site open... It would be _so_ easy...

"You're doing this because you're _worried_ about her," the devil perched on my shoulder says.

Yes. Good point. I should just check. Quickly. I wouldn't read anything unrelated to her appointment. Not even her texts with Booth. OK, maybe a _few_ of her texts with Booth. But only the sexy ones.

"Angela, no," a soft, angelic voice coming from my other shoulder says. "If Temperance finds out what you did, she'll be furious with you. Whatever this appointment is for, she'll talk to you about it _if_ and _when_ you need to know."

"Yeah, right," the devil scoffs. "Read the phone records, Angela."

"No, Angela, don't! You don't want to lose your best friend, do you?"

Now the two sides of my conscience round on each other.

"She's not going to lose her best friend! Brennan's never going to know she snooped!"

"But what if-."

"What if what if what if," the devil parrots, rolling his eyes. "Angela, when have you ever worried about the potential consequences of your actions before?"

The devil is right.

" _Do it_ ," he hisses.

I'm going to do it.

Ignoring the angel's abject protestations, I type in Brennan's phone number and wait for the page to load. I tap my fingernail against the trackpad as, one-by-one, her phone and text records pop up on my screen.

Her last three calls are from Booth. That's not surprising. We're in the middle of a murder investigation. They call each other all the time with new insights and discoveries.

Then there's a few calls from Cam, one to Hodgins from this morning when she asked him to come out to the crime scene and another from Booth.

I scroll down the page. There's a text thread between her and new sleeping buddy from last night. I skim read it to see if they mention what the appointment is for, or that's what I tell myself.

There's no mention of any appointment. It's about Thai take-out. I read on regardless.

 **Booth: Just leaving now. Got your fav. See you in 10. :)**

 **Brennan: Thank you! Can't wait. :)**

They'd clearly been exchanging later texts while they sat next to each other; it's so irrational on Brennan's part, I _love_ it.

 **Booth: This show is crap. Put the game on, Bones**

 **Brennan: Not yet, Booth! After this episode! And I'd appreciate it if you didn't call my show crap. Nova's the best!**

 **Booth: But we've already watched it 100 times already**

Brennan then proceeded to send him sexy promises in order to convince him to carry on watching Nova. It doesn't take much persuading on Brennan's part, I notice with a smirk.

The texts pause there - they'd evidently given up with their phones and had sex - and resume early this morning.

 **Brennan: Definitely a murder. Your jurisdiction. Get over here now. I miss you**

 **Brennan: And bring coffee. Decaf**

 **Booth: On my way! It's only been two hours though and you miss me already? Really can't live without me now, huh? ;)**

 **Booth: I miss you too btw**

 **Brennan: I guess not. No texting while driving, Booth! You have a child to think about. Talk to you when you get here. Love you**

A smile blossoms on my face, happiness spreading through my chest. They're adorable and so, so perfect for each other. I'm delighted that my best friend is finally with Booth (who I said she should be with all along, by the way) and is finally, _finally_ happy.

Anyway. Back to Mission Find-Out-What-Brennan's-Appointment-Is. (I'll work on a more catchy name for it later.) I exit the texts with Booth and continue to scroll through her call logs until I see one from a week ago that catches my attention.

 **Washington Health Centre: Your appointment with Dr. Tanaka OBGYN has been confirmed. Thursday at 10.00 AM.**

My mouth drops open.

Oh my God. Oh my God. _Oh my God!_

 _Booth and Brennan are having a_ _ **baby**_ _!_

Suddenly energised, I want to shout it from the rooftops, I want to dance through the lab, I want to hightail it over to the Washington Health Centre and throw my arms around Brennan. She's pregnant!

I can't believe it. It's like all my dreams have come true at once - finding out Booth and Brennan sext each other and that she's pregnant in less than five minutes - it's almost too much for me to handle.

Suddenly everything comes together, it all makes sense. The evasiveness, the protective hand Booth always has on the small of her back, the recent absence at the Founding Fathers whenever they solve a case. It explains Brennan's slighter fuller chest and the reason why she's been wearing looser fitting clothes lately, almost always covered by one of her many trench coats or lab coats. It explains the decaf coffee and the worried "you have a child to think about" text message. It explains why she knew how to help out with the sleepless nights and the pumping.

"She's probably already read a thousand baby books," I murmur with an amused smile. She's in expert in everything else, she may as well make herself an expert in the field of parenting too.

I close her phone records now and sit there grinning to myself. She's going to be an amazing mother, I already know, and she has Booth standing right by her side to help. He's a great dad to Parker and he's going to be a great dad to this new baby too.

Honestly, _a baby Booth_! I can't wait!

 **I'm having so much fun writing these so leave a character in the reviews who you'd like to find out about B &B next! :)**


	19. Get Those Skates On

"Booth, are you positive this is a good idea?"

Seeley Booth rolls his eyes, continuing to tie his shoelaces as his wife questions whether their family ice skating excursion is a good idea _again_. It's the fifth time in the last 24 hours. He knows that she's worried about Hank because he's only small but Booth took Parker skating for the first time at his age – Christine, too – and he wants to share the Christmas tradition with his youngest child. He explains this to Brennan, and this time it's _her_ turn to roll her eyes.

"You can still take him skating for the first time," she argues, her eyes wide and imploring as she tries to convince him to see her point of view. "I just think he should be a little older first…"

"But it's Christmas, Bones! It's my favourite time of the year. I always take the kids ice-skating at Christmas!"

"Would it really matter if we skipped one year?"

"Yes," Booth responds, his tone deadly serious as he folds his arms across his chest in an expression of defiance.

"He's only two – what if he falls over and hurts himself?"

"I'll have him. I won't let him fall." Narrowing his eyes at her, he asks the real reason why she doesn't want to go ice-skating.

"I'm just concerned about our son's welfare," she says unconvincingly.

"I know you too well, Bones. Come on. Spit it out."

She falters, then shakes her head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Standing up from the armchair, he walks over to her at the end of their bed, puts his hands on her shoulders and looks into her eyes. "I'm your husband, you can tell me anything."

She chews on her lower lip, considering his words. "Anything?"

"Anything," he assures her.

"And you promise you won't laugh at me?"

"I swear on my life."

Brennan pauses, squeezing her eyes shut. "This is incredibly difficult to admit as a highly intelligent and multi-talented individual-."

"Bones," he deadpans, levelling her with a stare. "Spit it out, would ya? We've got to get going before the rink gets too busy."

"Fine. I don't want to go skating because I'm terrible at it and I hate it. _There_."

Booth blinks, then his face falls. "You hate ice-skating?"

"I'm sorry! I know how much it means to you so I just… pretend… and schedule other plans for when you take Christine and Parker."

"You… _pretend_?" He repeats, his hands dropping from their position on her shoulders.

She instantly feels guilty.

"Perhaps pretend was the wrong choice of word, but, Booth, skating is _your_ thing, does it really matter if I'm not there with you?"

"Of course it does! I wanted it to be a family thing, you know? Me, you and the kids bundled up in our ugly Christmas sweaters skating around on the ice. drinking hot chocolate, snuggling in front of the fire while we watch a Christmas movie in the evening… But if you really hate it then, whatever, none of that even matters. I'll go get Hank ready." His shoulders slump as he leaves their bedroom, making Brennan feel even more guilty.

She honestly didn't mean to hurt him like that. She didn't think he'd mind or that he'd have such a detailed depiction of what their day would be like. Suddenly realizing what she has to do, she changes into her gaudy Rudolph sweater, grabs her hat, coat, scarf and gloves and joins her family in the lounge where Booth is dressing Hank in his hundredth cozy layer and Christine is waiting impatiently.

Upon seeing Brennan, their daughter jumps up excitedly and wraps her little arms around her mom in a tight hug.

Booth catches her eyes over the top of Christine's purple bobblehat and quirks a brow at her wintry attire. Their daughter asks the question for him:

"Are you coming with us, mommy?"

"I am, sweetheart," she confirms, her lips curling up into a smile as she watches her husband's shocked reaction. "You might have to help me out on the ice so I don't fall on my bum, but there's no place I'd rather be than with my three favourite people in the world at Christmas."

A smile grows on Booth's face.

"I'll help you, mommy," Christine chirps, oblivious to the tender moment being shared between her parents. "I'm the best skater in the world, even better than daddy!"

"He said that, did he?" Brennan laughs, her blue eyes twinkling.

"I said no such thing! The only reason you're as good as you are, missy, is because _I_ taught you everything you know."

"Whatever, daddy! Can we go now?"

Booth tugs Hank's Flyers hat over his ears, collects his bag with his skates in (he hates the rented ones at the rink) and the kids' stuff, then lifts his son into his arms and follows his two girls out of the house, over the moon that Brennan changed her mind. It wouldn't have been as special without her.

* * *

At the rink they all change into their skates, Brennan triple-checks that Hank and Christine are wrapped up warm enough and then they're ready to rock 'n' roll.

Christine confidently steps out onto the ice first, having done this many times before with Booth. She zooms off in the direction of the rest of the traffic and Brennan is left awe-struck at her daughter's impressive ability.

"Told you she was good," Booth gloats, puffing up his chest. His dream of one of his kids playing in the NHL is very much alive and kicking. Christine is salaaming past the slow skaters, twirling for her enamoured parents as she passes them.

"She's amazing! She might just be better than Dwayne Gretzky, Booth."

He shoots his wife a playful glare. "It's Wayne Gretzky and you know it. C'mon, let's join our little girl. We're kind of in the way stood here."

Brennan's smile fades, replaced by an expression of fear. "Are you sure? I mean, do I have to? I'm perfectly content watching you three enjoy yourselves."

"But we won't enjoy ourselves as much if you're not on the ice with us." He pulls out the puppy dog eyes that she uses so effectively on him, hoping it will win him this argument. "What are you afraid of?"

"Falling, breaking something, grossly disfiguring my face, my fingers getting sliced off by the sharp blades on the skates… Need I go on?"

"Bones, come on, I'm right here. I'm not going to let any of that stuff happen to you. Remember that last time we went skating together? Did I let you fall?"

"No," she replies reluctantly.

"Exactly."

"But you can't hold onto me this time because you've got Hank."

"You can hold onto the barrier, while me and Hank and Tank will take it slow next you, how 'bout that?"

As she mulls it over, Christine glides to a stop in front of them. "Why aren't you skating?" She asks, furrowing her brow. "It's _so_ fun!"

"We're coming now, aren't we, mommy?"

Christine turns her expectant gaze upon Brennan and she can't say no to that look. Swallowing, she says, "yeah, we're coming now. You go ahead, honey."

Beaming, Christine skates away and Booth helps his son take his first (wobbly) steps on the ice, his legs sprawling everywhere in a perfect Bambi impression. Booth steadies him and gently spins them around so they're facing Brennan.

Anxiously, she grips onto the side barrier and places one skate uneasily on the ice and slips, nearly falling flat on her face, but her husband swoops in to save her.

"You OK there, Bones?"

"I… think so…" She grits her teeth and places the other skate on the ice, bent over double as she puts all her weight onto the barrier. Booth keeps a hold of her until she's stable, one hand on Hank, the other around Brennan's waist. Slowly, they begin to skate around the rink, Brennan stumbling a few times but, thanks to Booth and the trusty barrier, she manages to remain on her feet.

"Do you think you can handle this on your own for a while so I can catch up with our superstar?"

Uncertainly, Brennan nods. She doesn't want to hold him back from having a good time with the kids. "Is Hank going with you?" She asks, concern evident in her tone. She doesn't want the two older Booths going too fast for her baby boy and him hurting himself in an attempt to keep up.

"Don't worry, Bones. He's a natural!" He gives her his charm smile, then he and Hank skate away into the distance, leaving Brennan alone to slowly make her way around the rink. They pass her a couple of times going way too fast and she shouts "be careful!" after them, however they continue to skate faster and faster, clearly enjoying themselves. And, Brennan has to admit, she's enjoying watching them, too. They're all wearing matching grins and Hank can't stop giggling happily. Booth even trusts Hank with his big sister so he can take Brennan's hand and skate around with her, too.

"You're happy," she points out, noting his adorable dimples and shining eyes.

"I'm _very_ happy, Bones," he corrects, squeezing her hand. "Thanks for doing this."

A smile creeps onto her face as she glances from her happy husband to her happy children playing together. "You're welcome. And you were right. This… this is perfect."

 **I actually updated this story! It's a Christmas miracle!**

 **Leave a review if you liked it? :)**


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